


Of Fire and Ice and Dragons and Phoenixes

by StandinShadow



Series: Skating for The Gold [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Artistic Liberties, Coran is the Best Coach, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith and Lance Learning to Understand Each Other, Korean Keith (Voltron), Miscommunication, Pining Keith (Voltron), Shiro and Keith are Foster Brothers, Very Loosely Inspired by YOI, mentions of disordered eating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:48:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StandinShadow/pseuds/StandinShadow
Summary: Since they were kids at Iverson's ballet boot camp for figure skaters, it's always been Keith and Lance, Lance and Keith, neck in neck. Then their last year in Juniors happens, where Lance finally manages a perfect routine after his growth spurt ruined his season the year before.Lance just doesn't expect Keith to uncharacteristically fall apart the moment he steps on the ice. Even less did he expect to suddenly find them training at the same rink. Can these two rivals learn to work together and help each other find the right style to win gold and each other's hearts? Or will it all be left to fade out on the ice?





	1. Rise and Fall

Lance walks into the rink and lets out a low exhale, glancing around at the various skaters in varied states of dress going through their warm ups. Some of them are old threats and some of them are new. A few of the newest ones look like babies to Lance, but then he is almost 18 to their 13. It makes sense there would come a point where he felt past Juniors. He just hopes he does good enough at Worlds today that his senior career could have a strong start instead of the disastrous one he’s feared for the past few months.

Which okay, Lance has had an awesome season. He and Coran have worked together seamlessly, matching each routine to his natural charisma and skill and throwing in just enough jumps that the judges won’t complain. He’s come in silver or bronze at nearly every event he entered this year.

   But neither of those are gold and Lance wants one, especially after how badly the season before went when he didn’t medal at all. His sudden growth spurt from 5’6” to 5’9” that year had turned his body from something he trusted into a lanky nightmare that had him hitting the ice hard more often and not, all his grace abandoning him.

Not like some people who land quads like it was their job, Lance thinks bitterly as he glances at a familiar black bun and anxious frown out of the corner of his eye.

“Keith is here,” Lance mutters to Coran, leaning over the wall of the rink with a low sigh as he watches Keith Kim whisper something to his coach Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, a tall, broad-shouldered former skater who was all of 25. He’d suffered a major injury at 19 and been forced off the ice, only to become a coach a year later. The commentators liked to call him and Keith the dream team because of how smoothly they worked together, but Lance knows he and Coran have a better repertoire.

“Well of course he is, he was at Nationals too,” Coran reminds him with a warm smile and blithe tone, the twinkle in his gaze and reassuring hand on his shoulder the only signs that he senses Lance’s inner turmoil. Coran follows his gaze, giving Keith and Shiro a tight frown Lance doesn’t understand before returning to his bright smile. “I think he got Silver.”

“Yeah, and I got Bronze,” Lance reminds him in a tight voice, shaking his head a little as he remembers his failure from earlier in the year. It helps a little that Keith, his number one rival, hadn’t gotten Gold either. But Lance doesn’t even know the guy who did, and it might actually be worse to have some random kid best both of them. It makes their rivalry seem less special, less personal. And bronze is still bronze.

“Which was very well done,” Coran tells him, firmly patting his shoulder as he glances down at Lance, gaze soft and proud in a way that reminds Lance of his mother. Lance can’t help return it, some of his anxieties lessening even though he still feels like he might throw up any second. Lance always feels that way before a competition though. “And we’ve added to and improved your routine since then.”

“Right, we added the quad,” Lance says with a small smirk, though it quickly fades as he catches Keith’s eyes, the other boy stretching with the ease of a cat, limbs loose and expression bordering on feral. He looks more natural with his leg up by his head than he does on the ground. Lance knows he doesn’t, as much as he wants to. Lance’s body is lean and loose, but it’s not that. “Keith can do quads. And he’s not gonna grow probably.”

“He hasn’t in a year since he had his last growth spurt,” Coran agrees without looking at the other boy, instead gently nudging Lance until Lance sighs and starts his own stretches. He slides his legs down his thighs and calves, giving Keith one last hard look as the other boy takes his hair out of his bun to shake out the sweat.

“If you could call it that, his mullet got more inches than him,” Lance mutters, wrinkling his nose a little as he catches sight of that hair. Lance has no idea how anyone could consider Shiro, as awesome as he is, a perfect coach when he let Keith have a mullet. Lance is sure it must lose him presentation points every time. He knows he would take them off if he had to see that hair when it wasn’t in a bun.

“His parents abandoned him, so it’s not like anyone can know,” AJ, a skater from Canada with thick blonde hair and a smirk that makes Lance want to punch him (when Lance isn’t even a violent person), drawls as he glances over at Keith smugly. Everyone knows Keith’s story, a skating prodigy whose father peaced out when he was 8, his lessons and training all covered by scholarships and sponsors since then. Lance would be jealous because he didn’t even get sponsors until recently, but … he’d rather have his parents. Lance suspects that Keith feels the same way, given that he went from being shy and a crybaby at Iverson’s training camp to the aloof hothead they all know now.

“Hey, shut up,” Lance snarls, giving the other boy a tight look. AJ shrugs and goes back to his stretch as though he hadn’t said anything rude, because apparently he’s the actual feral one here.

Lance does a deep knee bend only to feel a tap on his shoulder, and glances up to find Keith’s huge, dark eyes staring at him from under his lashes, bangs creating gentle shadows across his face. His smile is surprisingly soft as he bites his lip, and Lance swallows at how … pretty Keith is when he doesn’t look like he’s trying to fight the world. Finally Keith speaks, voice small and soft as he cocks his head at Lance. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Lance says after a beat, giving Keith a small smile that the other boy returns for a moment, crooked and awkward. Lance feels like he’s seeing a secret. Keith’s gaze though wavers, something lost and terrified, beyond the skater’s anxiety Lance is feeling, heavy in his gaze. It makes Lance start and he almost asks if Keith is okay, but then Keith turns on his heel, walking away and Lance forgets Keith is anything but competition. It’s better that way.

Lance takes a deep breath and turns back to his stretches, straightening his heel as he stared at the ice. The ice can be his friend and his enemy, and there was a stretch where it was his enemy way too often. Lance remembers his 16th year all too well, the awkward turns and twists, limbs turning a little too tightly or a little too loosely, every angle just a little bit off. Lance as a skater is known for his accuracy. To have a season and a half where he had none was disastrous.

And then there were his jumps that season. It’s hard to forget how many times he fell that season when there’s video of it and YouTube videos (Coran can’t block all of them, no matter how hard he tries). Lance has memorized every fall, the way he landed on his ass or once straight on his front, which was as impressive as it was embarrassing. Lance knows he shouldn’t compare himself to other skaters, but well, that’s what this entire sport is and losing the one thing that made him unique as a skater destroyed his confidence. This season has been good, really good, but does he really have whatever made him special (if anything) back?

“Take a deep breath,” Coran calls suddenly, a firm hand on Lance’s back as he finishes his warm up. Lances glances back at him, lips pressed into a thin line as he gives a quick glance to the ice. Last year he’d come in sixth. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t do better this time. “You’re doing fine. Whatever happens today happens. You’ve worked hard and we both know it, my boy.”

“I, yeah, yeah we have,” Lance says with a small smile, giving a quick nod to Coran as he stands up. The smile grows as he remembers the small victories, the perfectly executed jumps and turns of the season. The gold that came his way a few months ago. Lance isn’t where he was a season ago. He knows how to work this body now, and if he grows again well, he can relearn it. Whatever happens, Lance has proven himself.

(Lance just hopes he proves himself with a medal).

“That’s the spirit, now go out there and show them the Team Coran way!” Coran says with a bright grin, giving Lance a sudden slap on the back as his name is called for the ice. Lance blinks, unsure how it came to be his turn so quickly. Lance glances down at his costume, smiling because if nothing else, he looks fun. His shirt is skintight, one half of the shirt different shades of blue in a wave pattern, growing longer and wider as they go up the right side of his body and down his sleeve. The left sleeve is a midnight blue with sparkles on the edge of the sleeve. The pants are also a midnight blue, though the same wave pattern is at his ankles to add a bit of jazz. He and Coran know how to look good. “Big smiles!”

Lance skates onto the ice, taking a deep breath and letting himself slide into the music and routine. He’s a merman, seeking his lost love on the shore, his siren song longing and haunting. The music is an arrangement of _Kiss The Girl_ , but Lance has reimagined it as his love story. He starts off with a slide chasse before quickly turning into a forward spin. Lance follows the music with a complicated step sequence, turns growing faster as the music lifts. Then it’s time for his first jump.

Lance lifts into the air, sliding into a triple loop, already knowing where he’ll land on the ice. He hits his mark and slides into a shotgun spin. Lance smiles warmly as he holds his arms out in a perfect line, reaching for his lost love who is just beyond his line of vision, just beyond the horizon. He then shifts into his next jump, a quad salchow. Lance feels the butterflies in his stomach trying to jam their way up his chest but ignores them, letting the air take him to the perfect spot.

Lance is perfectly accurate and this is no different, and he feels his stomach ease as he lands the move, throwing his arms in the air with a grand flourish. He turns into another step routine, angling perfectly through the ocean as he works his way through the waves to his loves. He lands a double toe loop into several spins, before gliding into a double lutz that Lance follows with a triple axel. His landing is a little wobbly, but Lance ignores that and focuses on his final spins into his ending position one arm thrown back and the other reaching for his missing lover.

Lance lets out several breaths, sweat dripping down his brow as he skates toward the edge of the rink where Coran is excitedly waving with one arm and holding a giant stuffed dolphin with the other. Lance meets his gaze with a bright smile of his own; because he knows that he did well. Like, exceptionally so. Lance glances over at the rest of the rink and finds Keith’s dark eyes on him from where he’s standing by Coran, tight and considering in a way Lance doesn’t understand at all. He knows he doesn’t like it though. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Kim!”

Keith glances away immediately as Lance hisses at him, gaze going to the floor. Lance frowns as he skates past him, wrapping his arms around his dolphin. Keith should be warming up right now. He’s up in like two people. But it isn’t Lance’s business and he has a score to hear.

Lance is back by the rink by the time Keith’s music starts, the other boy sliding on to the ice. Lance can tell something is off by the first set of turns. There is none of Keith’s usual passion or precision, moves a little too tight. His first jump, a triple axel, ends with Keith falling to the ground hard. The room goes silent. Keith Kim doesn’t fall. Keith gets up quickly, going into another set of turns with a Half-Bielmann spin.

Then Keith starts for his second jump. Keith’s routines have always had more jumps than anyone else; it’s kind of his trademark. This one is a quadruple toe jump. Keith lands this one, but he wobbles pretty badly and actually holds out an arm to steady himself. Lance winces in sympathy. He’s always wanted to best Keith in competition, but not like this. Keith goes into his double axel and falls again.

“He fell,” Lance whispers as he watches Keith go into another jump, a double toe loop he lands. Lance swears it was a triple at Nationals. “He fell _twice_. Keith almost never falls. Even when we were kids at Iverson’s training camp.”

“Everyone goes through rough seasons,” Coran says softly as he watches the ice thoughtfully; gaze sympathetic as Keith lands a wobbly triple toe jump. On the sidelines, Shiro is frowning; gaze sad but not surprised, as though he expected Keith to be doing this badly. Lance frowns a little at that turning his eyes back to Keith’s routines and Coran. “Growing pains.”

Lance blinks a little, cocking his head to the left as he watches Keith go into Bielmann spin that was perfect before transitioning into a sit spin that was almost too close to the ice, but impressive nonetheless. Keith’s ridiculously flexible, but for reasons Lance doesn’t know (but he’s sure makes sense to Junior’s best coach and skater pair), his routines never focus on that. “But he didn’t grow!”

“Not those kind, my boy,” Coran says softly as Keith lands a pretty good triple axel. Then Keith does a few twists into his finishing pose, back bent so low his hair brushes the ice. Keith skates off the ice without looking at anyone, right past Shiro without saying a word. Shiro doesn’t have a stuffed animal for him, he almost never does. Lance wonders if Keith wants one now.

Lance thinks about giving him the dolphin, but then scores are being called and it’s too late. Lance comes in first. Keith comes in seventh.

Lance smiles widely as he skates onto the ice, the cheers following him and pulling a wide smile out of him. Lance Ramirez got Gold at Worlds. No one is ever going to doubt him ever again. He’s going into Seniors as a winner. Lance waves at the audience, tears starting to prick at his eyes as he stares across he rink at the smiling faces and clapping hands. Lance sees Hunk and his sister Ana in the audience, holding up a banner with his name and a cute little drawing of him in the corner. Closer to the ice, he sees Keith shoot him a small smile before following Shiro down the hall and Lance feels his heart do a flip he doesn’t get at all.

Then his eyes land on Coran, gaze so warm and proud Lance’s heart turns from the flip straight to bursting. He made his coach proud. Lance made himself proud. He’s finally proven he belongs here as much as anyone else.

A good hour later, Lance comes out his press conference, smile still wide as he walks into the hallway and then comes to a dead stop as he sees Keith and Shiro in the hallway. Shit. Shiro has a hand pressed tightly to his forehead, frown stiff as he glances down at Keith, whose arms are crossed and who has the same lost gaze as earlier. Lance should not be here. He should leave. Instead Lance hides behind the wall and glances around the corner as much as he can.

“Keith, what happened out there?” Shiro asks softly as he presses a hand on Keith’s shoulder, shaking his head a little as Keith takes a sudden step back, glare sharp. It’s not a look Lance would ever give Coran, he can say that much.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Keith says, voice surprisingly soft and distant as he starts walking toward the door. Keith stops after a few steps, letting out a small sigh as he strides back to an unmoving Shiro. Keith gives Shiro a pleading look, and Lance can’t say he blames Keith for wanting to get out of there. He felt the same way the year before. No one wants to be in the room where they made an idiot out of themselves for any longer than they have to be.

“You can’t let your emotions affect you like that if you’re going to go to the Senior levels,” Shiro tells him in a warm voice, but he’s giving Keith a challenging look as he grabs his shoulder again. Keith bites his lip and looks down, gaze heavy in a way Lance understands and doesn’t. Keith screwed up, yeah, but it was just one event after a pretty strong season.

Keith finally glances up at Shiro, expression a little more hopeful now, mouth twisting into a crooked smile that is sadder than anything else. His next words throw Lance. “Senior levels?”

“You’ll be 18 by next season, you could stay in Juniors for another year, but I don’t think that would be good for you,” Shiro answers with a shrug, though there’s something in his gaze as he gently shakes his head. Keith’s expression regains that lost look and he takes another step back from Shiro, though not quite as abruptly this time. Shiro lets out a small sigh, crossing his arms as he glances over at Keith with an almost pained look. Lance knows he should leave. He doesn’t.

Keith crosses his arms a little more tightly as he stares up at Shiro, practically shaking on his next words, voice coming out surprisingly harsh. “It doesn’t really matter what you think is good for me anymore anyway, does it?”

“I’m still your foster brother,” Shiro says in a gentle voice and Lance has to press a hand over his mouth and grip the wall to keep himself from giving himself away. Shiro is Keith’s foster brother?! It explains why they’re so close and why Shiro can calm down Keith so easily. It also explains why Keith practically worships the ground Shiro walks on. Lance just isn’t sure that sounds like the best pairing for a coach and a skater.

“Until I’m 18,” Keith says back, voice tight and glare hard – except no, Lance leans in as close he can given that he’s hiding behind a wall. There are tears in Keith’s eyes. Tears. Keith looks like he might cry. This is personal. The look Keith gives Shiro next is so pleading that Lance half expects Keith to start tugging on his sleeve. “Look, nothing needs to change.”

Shiro opens his mouth, but then closes it and starts walking down the hallway. Keith follows several feet behind him, only to get cornered by a group of reporters too far back for Shiro to easily get back to him. Keith freezes, stiffening slightly the same way he always does at press conferences, even when he does well. Except this time Keith’s gaze is wild. Lance wonders if maybe he should rush over. “Kim, you fell on nearly every jump and downgraded two, how do you think this will effect your standing as you head into the upcoming season?”

“What do you think?” Keith snaps as he crosses his arms and tries to side step them. One of them sticks a microphone in Keith’s face and Lance watches as his eyes flash. Lance has seen that look before once, when they were at training camp and Keith yelled at everyone to take their ballet more seriously (they found out later his dad up and left that week). It’s not a good thing. “The next season doesn’t matter! I’m done!”

“Done? Do you mean you’re quitting skating?” A reporter, a young man with a bright red scarf and a thin smile, black hat tilted forward.

“I don’t know yet! What I know is that I don’t need a bunch of questions about how badly I did or how my coach is abandoning me!” Keith snaps angrily at the reporters before walking past them angrily, arms crossed as he storms down the hall. Lance feels his stomach drop for him, because holy shit, Which was … you can’t just announce you’re leaving your coach like that. Poor Shiro.

“Your switching coaches?” The same man calls after Keith taking a few steps toward him, tone bordering on mocking. It’s clearly intended to piss Keith off. It works.

Keith pauses near the door, glancing back at them all over his shoulders. Lance catches his eye and shakes his head a little, because Keith, Keith should leave before he makes things worse. Keith shrugs and then, voice tight and like he might cry (and maybe Keith isn’t the one leaving Shiro) says one last word before he walks out the door. “Apparently.”

“You know, I’m gonna miss him,” Lance murmurs as he glances to his left to find Coran standing next to him, expression tight and a little sad. Lance doesn’t know when he got here. Lance is surprised to find that he means what he said as he and Coran walk out of the stadium.

* * *

Keith bends into another crunch, form perfect as he tries to carry on his with set even though his muscles feels like Jell-O right now. He’s been working out since he woke up and now it’s nearly noon, but Keith doesn’t have time to stop. Not if he wants to build enough muscle to perfect his jumps while also maintaining his flexibility. Keith’s heard the rumors that the most flexible skaters are the worst jumpers, and he wants to ensure that isn’t true for him. Not when his routines have been jump based for years.

Of course, other people argue that’s just an excuse people make for when their favorite skaters screw up as badly Keith did at Worlds. Other people say Keith should’ve worked his flexibility, his innate artistry (whatever that means) from the start. It’s not like he’s likely to grow any more now that he’s 18 and hasn’t in nearly two years. Keith still checks his height like clock work, always afraid that growth spurt might come at any moment. Shiro teases him for it, but it’s not like it’s any of his business anymore. He’s the one who left.

“You should take a break, you’ve been training for nearly six hours,” Shiro calls from where he suddenly appears on the porch, because while he left as Keith’s coach, Keith’s belief Shiro and his mom Hinata were going to throw him out the moment he turned 18 had turned out to be wrong. Keith winces a little as he remembers walking down the stairs with his suitcase in one hand a bag full of his belongings in the other only to find Shiro and Hinata, visiting for his birthday, both staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

Keith went through six foster homes before being placed with Shiro and Hinata. Keith never expected to be one of the kids who ended up with a home, and especially not with his coach and idol as his older brother. It still doesn’t quite feel real, still feels like it could go away just as quickly as his promising skating career had.

“I’ve been training for twice as long most days,” Keith answers with a shrug, earning a small eye roll from Shiro. Keith sighs but slides into his stretching, body bending with a familiar and reassuring limberness. Keith could still come back in the Senior division, could still go to the Olympics someday. He just needs a coach and he isn’t going to find one sitting around getting out of shape.

“Kind of my point, Keith,” Shiro says with a small snort, shaking his head as he comes down the stairs and kneels down next to Keith so they’re face to face. Keith looks up from where he’s stretching his quads on the mat and rolls his shoulders with a blank look. “At least go shower and have lunch with me.”

“I had a protein bar an hour ago,” Keith assures him with a small smile, though Shiro looks even more worried rather than relieved. Keith has half the mind to point out that Shiro lives off of fast food 90% of the time, but Shiro isn’t trying to be a professional athlete anymore.

“You’ve lost like 10 lbs since Worlds,” Shiro points out in a soft voice, giving Keith a once that makes Keith cross his arms tightly against his chest. He’s not that thin, and besides, it’s better for skaters. “Are we going to talk about Worlds?”

“I apologized to the press,” Keith answers back in a tight voice, looking away from Shiro at the fence in their tiny backyard. He knows that isn’t what Shiro is talking about, but maybe if Keith reminds Shiro that he already swallowed his pride and acknowledged he fucked up, he’ll let it go. Lance Ramirez, who hates him, retweeted his apology and if he thinks Keith is fine, Shiro should too. “In an interview and a tweet. I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the part I meant,” Shiro says softly as he leans over until he’s in front of Keith’s line of vision again. Keith bites his lip as he meets Shiro’s gaze, soft and almost apologetic. Suddenly Keith knows exactly what part of Worlds Shiro means, and it’s not how many times he fell or how he yelled at the wrong people. It’s worse than that. “We need to talk about your coaching situation.”

“My coaching situation is that I need to be in perfect shape and on my best behavior so I can find a new one before the season starts,” Keith answers shortly, turning his gaze away from Shiro to look back at his legs. They look a little thinner than last season, smaller instead of bigger. Keith isn’t building muscle as fast as he’s losing everything else. It’s not good enough and -

“Physically exhausting yourself everyday isn’t going to do that,” Shiro says, interrupting his thoughts with a warm hand on his shoulder. Shiro slides his prosthetic one onto Keith’s other shoulder so they’re fully facing each other.

“Worked before,” Keith answers back, frowning tightly as he lowers his gaze, glancing down at the rock next to his mat. It was small and had a blue tinge, the same shade as Lance’s eyes and –nope, pushing that thought aside. Keith doesn’t need to think about his crush, especially when said crush doesn’t even like him. Besides the point right now is that Keith knows what he’s doing when it comes to training. He just needs to focus on perfecting his skills before the Senior division starts. Shiro should know that.

“I should have been firmer with you,” Shiro says instead of admitting Keith might have a point. For a second Shiro gives him a serious look, and Keith can see the lectures embedded in it. That he needs to learn to his limits, to not let himself be so affected by his emotions, not to be so single-minded. But Keith doesn’t … he’s not supposed to have anything except skating.

Then the worst thing Keith can imagine happens. Shiro frowns tight and pained, gaze growing heavy and distant at the same time. Shiro feels guilty, like he was a bad coach. It’s been happening here and there ever since that morning before Worlds six months ago when Shiro suddenly announced he wasn’t going to coach Keith after this season (Shiro insists his timing could’ve been better and Keith can’t argue with that). “Shiro, that isn’t what I meant –“

“I know, that’s part of the problem,” Shiro tells him, frown turning into a grimace as he gives Keith a wistful look, letting go of Keith’s shoulders. “You’ve outgrown me.”

“No I haven’t! Shiro, we’ve worked together for five years. We had one bad season,” Keith points out, crossing his arms as he leans forward, voice and gaze determined. They’ve had this conversation at least half a dozen times over the past six months in different ways. Neither of them has moved an inch on it. Keith doesn’t want to; Shiro is his coach, has been his coach his entire Juniors career.

“I was 20, I didn’t have business coaching anyone,” Shiro mutters not for the first time, smile melancholic even as something warm enters his gaze, memories flickering between them and then fading away. Shiro has never felt further away and Keith is terrified.

“It was my fault!” Keith shouts before, looking down and biting his lip. Yelling is part of what got him into this mess in the first place. Not being a stronger jumper is what created the rest of it. They can fix those things.

“Not entirely,” Shiro says after a beat, giving Keith a firm look that Keith can’t bring himself to look away from even though he knows he’s not going to like what Shiro says next. Not with the way Shiro insists on taking part of the blame, even though Keith is the one who fell four times. It’s not like Shiro pushed him over. “I put too much pressure on you and too much focus on jumps.”

“If we know what went wrong, we can fix it!” Keith says, forming his hands into his fists as he looks over at Shiro. Shiro raises an eyebrow, a small fond smile coming over his face. Keith grins excitedly and leans forward, poking Shiro in the chest because Shiro’s finally getting it.

“You’re right you can, I know you can, Keith,” Shiro agrees with the same warm smile as Keith pulls his hand back slowly, the ‘you’ and not ‘we’ slapping Keith in the face until his grins fades back into a tight frown. “I found a coach for you, for next season.”

“Wait really?” Keith says, eyes widening a little because he didn’t even know anyone was interested in him. He’d hoped, because he had five good seasons and one bad event. But Keith also is awkward during most press conferences and not nearly as cute as someone like Lance or Allura. He’s not sponsorship catnip and that’s what coaches want. Except there might be some coaches who don’t care about that, if they know Keith. Maybe. “Shiro, when you say you found a coach –“

“I don’t mean me, Keith. I have my hands full with Pidge and Klaizap in Juniors,” Shiro corrects him softly, and Keith’s mouth falls shut because he doesn’t need the reminder Shiro is dropping him and keeping the kid who stole Gold from right under his and Lance’s noses at Nationals. Shiro gives him a knowing look, one that tells him not to be jealous. “And like I said, you’ve outgrown me. You need a coach with more experience who can help you with your presentation and music interpretation. I’m not that person.”

“I trust you,” Keith mumbles softly, looking up at Shiro with a defeated look as he realizes his stubbornness isn’t going to work in his favor this time. Keith hasn’t let many people in since he went to foster care when he was eight. Shiro’s one of the few people whom Keith’s let in and who gets Keith and wants Keith around. A different coach probably won’t, because it’s not like anyone else does.

“Maybe it’s time you learned to trust a few more people,” Shiro says with a gentle look, ruffling Keith’s hair a little. Keith sighs a little before giving a small nod, indicating that Shiro should keep going. Might as well find out who’s willing to put up with him. “And Coran Altea is one of the most trustworthy coaches I’ve ever met.”

The name repeats in Keith’s head at least three times before he processes what Shiro is saying and gives him a wide-eyed stare, mouth forming into a small 'o’ of surprise. “Coran Altea? Have you lost your mind?”

“He’s looking to take on another skater since he only has Lance Ramirez, and he’s one of the best coaches for artistry and showmanship in skating right now,” Shiro explains calmly, as though it makes perfect sense even though it doesn’t make any. Sure, Keith’s presentation score is consistently the weakest part of his skates, but that doesn’t mean he needs expert help with it. He can figure it out on his own.

“He coddles his skaters!” Keith grumbles even though he likes Coran and they both know it, pouting a little as rolls to his feet. Shiro pulls himself up from where he was sitting on the ground to stand next to him with a purposefully blank expression. Keith glances up at Shiro, craning his head a little and wishing he had his boots. Shiro’s nearly 8 inches taller than him without them.

“Some people would say the same thing about me,” Shiro points out with a hint of a smirk, raising an eyebrow as Keith scowls back at him. He’s a lot of things, but _coddled_ has never been one of them.

“He makes his skaters follow an exact workout and nutrition plan and doesn’t let them add workout hours!” Keith yelps , voice rising with anxiety as he throws his hands out, waving them in front of Shiro’s face. Shiro frowns at him, gaze growing mischievous as he gives Keith a pointed look, lips twisting playfully. Keith knows he sounds desperate at this point, but Shiro needs to understand this is a bad idea.

“That’s true for most coaches except me,” Shiro reminds him with a small grin as he turns to walk up the stairs, gesturing at Keith to follow. Keith stomps up the creaky wooden stairs of their porch, arms crossed tight against his chest. One of the reasons he and Shiro work well together was because Shiro understands that Keith can take care of himself. Keith doesn’t need a coach to tell him how to eat. “And he uses positive but firm reinforcement, something you could use.”

Keith gives Shiro a tight look at that, gently kicking the floor with one foot. Shiro uses positive reinforcement most of the time. It wouldn’t be any different with Coran. And … while Keith doesn’t want to part from Shiro, that isn’t the only issue here. There’s a bigger once and it’s not only unfair to Keith. “Lance hates me!”

“Glad we got to the real problem,” Shiro answers with a now wide grin as he walks inside their apartment, heading toward the living room. Keith follows him with a low groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Keith stops near the bathroom door, grabbing a towel off of the laundry they haven’t bothered to put away yet. Shiro drops it on Keith’s head with a smirk, gaze just a little too knowing for Keith’s liking on his next words. “Lance doesn’t hate you.”

“He called me an impulsive idiot during a press conference,” Keith reminds him, voice dropping a little as he bites his lip at the memory. It isn’t one of his better memories. Bad enough it happened at all, let alone that it was the guy he’s had a crush on for almost five years.

“Lance didn’t know his mic was on, to be fair,” Shiro reminds him, tone more sympathetic as he winces a little at the memory. Keith knows that’s true, that Lance thought he was only saying it to his friend Hunk. And yeah, maybe doing a flip on the ice without telling anyone before he tried it was a little stupid. But Keith _did_ land it, so really, what did Lance know? “Keith, Lance doesn’t know you. Maybe it’s time you made a friend on the ice besides me.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Keith asks as he pushes open the bathroom door with a pointed look. Shiro shakes his head with a small, patting him on the shoulder before pushing him into the bathroom. Shiro tells him over lunch that they’ll handle the contracts tomorrow.

He doesn’t add that right after they’ll go to the rink, but that’s where Keith finds himself, awkwardly hugging his jean jacket to his chest and wishing he had a real scarf and not just a bandana. Then he could at least hide more of his face from Lance, who’s staring at him like he’s a ghost. Or maybe more like a demon. “Hey, Lance.”

* * *

“Why is Keith Kim here?” Lance asks Shiro, giving the boy a once over as though he expects him to magically turn into someone else. A part of Lance is hoping that will happen. Keith stares at the ground, and hugs his oversized jean jacket to his chest as though it’ll protect him from Lance. Since when is _Keith_ afraid of him? His Worlds performance was good yeah, but it wasn’t that good. “Keith, why are you here?”

“Coran is going to be my coach from now on, we finished the contract work a few hours ago,” Keith answers, voice surprisingly small as he gave Lance a pointed look. Okay yeah, maybe he should’ve asked Keith and not Shiro. That was rude, Lance can admit to that. But it doesn’t change the fact that what Keith just said makes no sense. Lance is starting to wonder if this is some weird training from Coran and Shiro, making them live through the stress of working together to prepare them for the Olympics.

Shiro walks away before Lance can ask, Keith watching him wistfully before turning back to stare at the ice bitterly. Well, this is off to a great start.

“What, why? Coran is _my_ coach,” Lance snaps with a narrowed gaze as he leans forward, jabbing a finger toward Keith. He knows most coaches work with more than one skater, but he and Coran have been one-on-one for the past year and Lance has gotten used to it. “And you have a coach. What happened to you and Shiro and your perfect relationship? You said he changed your life and then you just go and ditch him because you lose once?”

“Of course not! I’d never leave Shiro!” Keith shouts, before quickly looking down, expression surprisingly ashamed and vulnerable as he bites lip, open in a way that Lance doesn’t expect from Keith. Lance frowns with scrunched eyebrows, gaze softening as he remembers Keith’s broken voice when he and Shiro argued at Worlds a few months ago. Lance thought it was just a tense moment, but maybe Shiro quit on him all the way back then. Keith’s voice is clipped and tight when he finally speaks again. “Look, things change. I’m not going to get in your way, we have completely different styles.”

“You better not!” Lance says back with a huff, turning away from Keith to look over at the ice that is his domain. He knows he’s being childish, but given that no one consulted him on any of this, Lance thinks he has the right to be, at least for a little bit.

Suddenly Lance feels a heavy hand on his shoulder and glances up to see Coran’s bright orange mustache and even brighter smile. His other hand is on Keith’s right shoulder as he pulls the other boy closer to their circle, Keith stumbling a little as Coran does. “He won’t, because instead you’ll be helping each other!”

“What?” Lance says with wide eyes at the same time Keith does, making the same face he does whenever Lance mentions a movie or web comic he likes. Oh, wait, that’s Keith’s confused face then. Huh, it’s kind of cute, all soft and open, stupidly perfect eyebrows pressing together in concentration as though he can solve the mystery if he just thinks hard enough. Lance knows that’s because Keith doesn’t know what it’s like to work with Coran yet.

“Because you’ll be switching styles, to an extent,” Coran announces cheerfully as he pats them both on the shoulders again before pulling his arms back. Lance frowns, raising an eyebrow at Coran and giving him a pointed look, because that explained exactly nothing. “Oh, don’t look so nervous, it makes perfect sense. Even though Lance is a bit on the tall side but he can still do quads like they’re nothing and always lands with perfect accuracy. Keith is ridiculously flexible and one of the most agile skaters. It makes sense to switch up your focuses a bit.”

Lance blinks owlishly, shaking his head a little at Coran’s words. Focus on jumps? Him? Formerly one of the worst jumpers in figure skating, okay, Coran. That makes sense. Keith’s does, because he is bizarrely flexible and his spins are just as good (maybe better) than his jumps. But Keith looks just as confused as him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little. Finally, Lance says the only thing he can of think, as much as he hates repeating himself. “What?” 

  “Yes, your themes will be centered on that too. Lance’s is that he’s like a dragon of the sea, swiftly jumping through the sea and the sky,” Coran says sliding his hands to his hips as his gaze grows bright and far away. Lance lets out a small sigh, leaning back against the wall of the rink and letting Coran build the fantasy. His routine did sound pretty cool even if he’s not sure a sea dragon is a thing. “And Keith is like a Phoenix, rising from the ashes of last year’s world to become a new and improved skater.”

  Lance winces in sympathy at the same time Keith crosses his arms and glares at the floor, though his eyes are more anxious than angry. Lance wonders how often that’s been true and Keith was just too far away for him to see it. Lance pushes the thought aside, reaching a hand out and sliding it to Keith’s shoulder and Keith actually gasps, small and kind of adorable. “The parts where you didn’t fall were good.”

“Oh my God,” Keith mutters in a sharp voice, though he doesn’t pull away from Lance’s grip even as he brings up one hand to press it against his face. Lance cocks his head and then closes his eyes and softly curses himself.

  Lance maybe should’ve lead with what he did well instead of the falling. Keith throws him off his social game. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I did fall a lot," Keith says as he pulls his hand away from his face, and up close Lance can see his fingers are short and a little chubby. Keith’s smiling under his hand, expression sheepish and almost playful. Lance blinks in surprise and then smiles at Keith warmly, because he kind of likes this Keith.

“These our your routines,” Coran announced cheerfully as he shoved two packets into their hands, Keith’s red and Lance’s blue. Lance nodded quickly, pressing his lips into a thin as he thought over the best way to start studying his routine. Next to him Keith looked at the packet with a blank expression, holding up one piece of paper in confusion. Lance smirks a little, leaning over to point out the obvious Keith’s missing.

“He likes us to have the moves on paper,” Lance says as he points to the word ‘Lutz’ near the top of Keith’s routine guide. Keith’s eyebrows scrunch together and he nods after a second, and then again a little more firmly.

“Thanks Lance,” Keith mutters with a half smile before he starts intensely studying the packet. Lance snorts softly, biting back a laugh at how serious Keith looks and how long it took him to understand what the packet was. Genius ditz indeed. Keith frowns a little more tightly, eyebrows shooting up as he turns the page. “Did he draw tiny versions of us?”

“Yeah, he does that too,” Lance tells him with a grin, glancing down at the little leaping Lance on his own page fondly. Other coaches might be more conventional, but Lance doubts any other skater has as much fun or feels as loved as he does with Coran.

“And now I shall demonstrate,” Coran calls out to them, sliding onto the ice before going into their routines. He calls out all of the moves he can’t do anymore or could never do in the first place, grin bright. Keith’s is lower on jumps than his old routines, but throws in the most difficult spins and turns Lance knows, a few of which Lance can’t do. Lance’s include twice as many jumps as usual including two triple axels with a note that he could make one of them a quad if he wants.

 Yeah, Lance thinks as his stomach drops and he glances at a paler than usual Keith, they’re probably gonna need to help each other out.

* * *

“Coran, that was amazing as usual,” Lance says with a dazzling smile as Coran comes off the ice. Keith nods hurriedly in agreement, because those jumps had been impressive, especially considering Coran’s age. Keith hopes he’s half that good when he’s in his fifties. Suddenly Lance turns to him with that same bright smile, blue eyes twinkling in a way that makes Keith have to suck in a breath. “Keith, let’s grab breakfast and talk about how awesome this season’s gonna be.”

“What about warming up or practicing?” Keith asks with a small frown, raising an eyebrow at Lance. Lance’s eyebrows scrunch together with a grimace, gaze bemused as he stares at Keith. Keith shrugs and Lance suddenly sighs and then _loops_ their arms together. Today’s been weird. “Thanks, Coach.”

Keith lets Lance walk him down a block from the rink, not quite able to bring himself to pull his arm back when Lance hasn’t let go. It’s not exactly a cute meet, with the tight frown on Lance’s face, but it’s as close as Keith is going to get. They get to a small, local café a few minutes later and Keith orders a black coffee and Lance gets a vanilla and caramel latte Keith’s a little jealous of. “Lance, what’re we doing here?”

   Lance slams his hand down on the table, making their drinks shake a little as he looks at Keith with a determined expression, surprisingly serious for the boy Keith’s gotten used to always seeing grinning or laughing. “Look, I don’t like you and you don’t like me –“

“I like you,” Keith objects and then stops when Lance’s eyes go wide, cocking his head a little as he stares at Keith. A brown curl falls across his forehead as he does, creating shadows that make Lance’s face even softer than usual. Keith swallows an oversized gulp of coffee before looking anywhere but at Lance when he speaks again. “I mean. I don’t really know you. We’ve only talked like five times.”

“Oh, well, good to know,” Lance says after a beat, smiling softly even though the surprise isn’t quite going out of his gaze. Keith glances up at him from under his eyelashes, biting his lip a little and praying Lance hasn’t realized he has a crush on him. Keith can only take so much in one day. “I mean, I don’t – you’re my rival, but I’m sure you’re fine. Anyone Coran would take on has to be.”

“Thanks, Lance,” Keith mutters for the third time that day, hiding his relieved smile and slight flush behind his coffee cup. Lance doesn’t know so now things won’t be awkward. Well. More awkward. Keith scrunches his eyebrows together when he realizes he still doesn’t know why they’re here and not on the ice. “So is this a welcome to the team coffee?”

“No this is a work together coffee,” Lance answers back with a small grin, gaze growing a little warmer as he leans forward. Lance lifts one hand from the table and slides it under his chin, index finger sticking out from underneath. It’s unfair he’s still hot while doing that. “Look, I’ve never had a routine focused on jumping before, and you focus on jumping so much you barely even do steps.”

“Yeah, the judges thought the same thing,” Keith agrees with a small sigh, shuffling a little and pulling his shoulders together. Lance nods sympathetically, giving him a small grimace of understanding. Keith gives him a half smile in return, and then frowns because this still doesn’t make sense. “You’re good at jumping though.”

“I am, but I need to build up my stamina, so you give me advice on that and jumps,” Lance explains with a grin, gaze playful and a little teasing as he takes a sip of his coffee innocently. Too innocently. “And I’ll help you with your steps and your weird Gumby body.”

“Hey! Flexibility is a good thing in skating,” Keith huffs, crossing his arms and not bothering to hide his flush this time. He’s embarrassed, but he’s something else to, not able to fight the smile that comes over his face as he stares over at Lance. “But yeah, deal.”

Lance smirks and opens his mouth, and then closes it just as suddenly. His eyes grow wide as he leans forward, curly hair falling across his forehead as he breaks out into a wide grin. “Wait, really? You’re not gonna pull your whole lone wolf thing?”

“Not yet,” Keith answers back with a purposefully vague tone, one Lance groans at before catching on and letting out a small, surprised laugh. Keith smirks as he holds his coffee up, catching Lance’s eye and giving him a decisive look. “Besides, maybe if I don’t we'll both have gold by the end of the season.”

Lance returns his smirk with one of his own, though his gaze is a little less sure as they clink their drinks together. But it is warm and Keith thinks might turn out better than he thought.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

Lance glides across the ice, eyes closed as he slides into his first jump, a triple axel he forces himself to open his eyes for. As much fun as skating his fantasy fully is, seeing where he’s going to land is even better. Lance leaps into the air, twisting through his motions until he lands on the ice. No wobbling. Lance grins as he slides into his next step routine, though his mind is already on his next jump. It’s a quadruple salchow, which is part of his actual routine now too. Lance should get used to doing it, doing this in competition. He just hates how little time there is to get into the groove of the steps and spins, to put his own Lancey Lance flavor to things.

Lance throws himself into his next jump, focusing on the exact place on the ice he wants to land to go into his next set of spins. This routine’s difficult, even by today’s standards. Lance pushes himself into the quadruple salchow, ignoring the slight tiredness of his limbs. Lance hopes those stamina lessons start to kick in a little more soon, because this is exhausting. Lance finally lands on the ground, a little wobbly, but not so much that Lance isn’t able to slip into his spins. He can’t go as low on his Half-Biellmann as he’d like anymore.

Lance takes a deep bow and looks up to find haunting dark eyes staring at him from across the rink. Lance flails a little, arms out as he starts to go toward the rink. Keith is here. He should’ve seen that coming, since they’ve been training together for nearly three weeks and Keith is here everyday, but not usually this early. 7 AM is Lance’s private practice time with Coran.

“Keith!” Lance calls out as he reaches the side of the rink, giving Keith a bright smile he doesn’t feel deep down. Keith gives him an exacting look, a small frown on his face as he sits there wordlessly stretching. Lance still hasn’t figured out if Keith is naturally this quiet or shy or if Keith just doesn’t want to talk to him. It might be all three. “How long have you been here?”

“Since halfway through the routine,” Keith answers back softly, eyes narrowing a little as he slides into a back bend. Lance tries to maintain eye contact even though it leaves him leaning forward on one skate, the other dangling in his hand. “It’s one of Shiro’s.”

“Yeah, I memorized it when he was still skating,” Lance admits with a small shrug, flushing a little as Keith’s eyebrows go up in shock before his face goes back to the neutral expression from before. Lance cocks his head a little at that, wondering why Keith is so shocked. After all, no one was as obsessed with Takashi Shirogane than Keith Kim back in Juniors. Surely Keith must have realized that other people loved his idol as much as he did. Or maybe he’s just surprised Lance was capable of doing it.

Lance stills at the thought, glaring at Keith thoughtlessly as he glances down at the other boy. He’s about to say something, probably something he’ll regret, when Keith bites his lip and looks down, bangs covering half his face. “I wanted to a lot of his too.”

“Did you now?” Lance asks with a crooked grin, sitting down on the ground next to Keith so he can take off his other skate. He unlaces it while leaning his head down to try and look up Keith’s bangs, but Keith cocks his head up suddenly so Lance can see the hesitancy in those violet eyes. Keith gives him an unsure smile back, something a little bittersweet in it. Maybe Keith misses having someone he could idolize? Shiro seems perfect, but Keith gets to see all his weird habits and flaws. “Is that weird, like that your brother used to be your idol? It sounds like the plot of a Disney channel movie.”

“A what?” Keith asks, cocking his head a little as he gives Lance a blank look. Lance scrunches his eyebrows together, gently pushing Keith’s shoulder with one hand, because Keith can’t be serious.

“You know, those TV movies Disney makes for cheap about kids becoming famous or like, switching places with their evil twin or whatever?” Lance reminds him with a small chuckle, expecting understanding and the memories to come to Keith the same way they’re coming to him. Instead Keith’s expression only grows more confused, eyes widening a little and mouth pressing into a small pout. Fuck, he’s so cute. “Well, I know who I’m inviting over for a movie marathon next.”

“Oh,” Keith murmurs softly, eyes still wide as he stares over at Lance, eyebrows sloping together suspiciously for a second. Lance shakes his head a little, frowning a little as he glances over at Keith, because they are teammates now. They need to get to know each other. Keith gives him a sheepish half-smile, and Lance swears he sees a flicker of something soft and sweet entering his gaze and then fading just as quickly. “It’s not weird, though. I mean, not weirder than idolizing your real big brother, anyway, which I’m sure you do.”

Lance lets out a small laugh at that shaking his head a little bit as he leans toward Keith, stretching out his quads as Keith bends himself in a way that honestly kind of terrifies Lance. Keith raises an eyebrow at the laugh, and Lance smirks a little, thinking about Roberto and all the times he stole Lance’s DS when they were younger. Hard to believe he’s married now. “I love my brother, but trust me, idolizing is not the word. Annoying him is more like it.”

 Keith lets out a small chortle, higher-pitched and lighter than Lance would’ve expected. Keith stops laughing after a minute and he returns to the single-minded look he normally wears at practice, hands sliding down his calves and past his feet like he doesn’t even have bones.

Coran saunters down from where he’d been watching from his podium, grinning brightly as he pats Lance on the shoulder. Lance smiles back, not asking for feedback yet. He wants to saunter the feeling of accomplishment from doing one of Shiro’s routines first. Coran seems to catch on, nodding for him to cool down and turning to where Keith is still warming up. He gestures toward his skates. Keith swallows harshly. “Okay Keith, go give it your all, but remember it’s only the first time,” “Mistakes are to be expected.”

“Right,” Keith answers back, though his voice and expression are equally tight as he grabs his skates roughly from the wall. Keith laces them up each with careful precision, as though he expects his skates to break. When he rolls to his feet, Coran gives him an encouraging smile, but Keith only nods, expression growing more anxious as he looks over the ice. Lance has the sinking feeling this isn’t going to go well.

Keith glides out onto the ice and then into his first set of spins, each one faster and more difficult than the last. He ends this run with a Biellmann spin that he adds a twist to and … Lance can’t do that anymore. He can’t bend like Keith can even if he can jump better. He’s surprised at the surge of jealousy, of longing that goes through him at that. There’s a beauty, a freedom in being able to move like Keith can, and Lance misses it.

The thought passes as Keith goes into his first of three quads (one more than Coran wanted and three less than Keith begged for), landing it if a little more wobbly than usual. Keith quickly turns into his next step, gliding around the ice and throwing in a sudden turn that makes Lance’s head spin. But then his triple axel happens and Keith goes down hard. Keith looks like he wants to beat himself up, practically growling on the ice before he goes into another set of turns with two doubles. He doesn’t fall, but he does wobble on the second one and Lance winces.

“That Biellmann spin is badass,” Lance says when Keith finishes and skates off the ice silently, expression drawn the way it was at Worlds. Lance can tell he wants to run away or lash out, but Lance isn’t gonna let him because Keith is his rink mate and Coran is his coach, and they’re going to support the hell out of him rather Keith likes it or not.

“I fell,” Keith mutters, voice pained and less harsh than Lance expected, some of the anger in his gaze giving away to anxiety. Keith slides onto the bench by the edge of the rink with a low groan, tugging on his skate like it’s what made him fall. Lance’s expression softens as that, sitting down next to Keith on the bench and throwing an arm around his shoulder.

“Like I said, mistakes are to be expected, everyone falls sometimes,” Coran adds with a small smile as he walks over to them, laying one hand on each of their shoulders. Lance wonders what he’ll do when it’s Keith versus Lance again instead of Keith and Lance, but he guesses they’ll come to that bridge when they come to it. Probably Skate Canada.

“Yeah, remember me last year?” Lance reminds Keith with a playful grin, wriggling his eyebrows a little when Keith actually winces in sympathy. Yeah, it’d been real bad. Just as bad as Keith at Worlds this year, to be honest, even though he got one place higher. More people had just improved their routines by this year’s Worlds.

“That wasn’t your fault, you had a growth spurt,” Keith says, voice defensive and almost heated as he crosses his arms. Lance is about to argue, because he doesn’t have time for a pity party, but then he sees the determined look in Keith’s gaze, the warmth, and … it’s all directed at him. Keith isn’t trying to say he was worse; he’s trying to defend Lance from his own bad self-esteem. It’s both sweet and leaves Lance completely baffled because Keith said about five words to him that entire season.

“I know that, and you’re having like … your own thing, and that’s okay too,” Lance says with a grin as he bumps his shoulders into Keith’s. Keith’s eyes widen a little, and then he gives Lance one of those rare soft smiles, the kind that makes Lance’s heart do weird flips. Then Keith looks away just as suddenly, and if Lance didn’t know better, he’d think Keith was blushing over him. Like that would ever happen.

Coran tells them to go grab breakfast before conditioning and feedback. Keith tries to argue, but Coran puts on his sternest look and Lance ends up dragging a shell-shocked Keith out of the rink. Coran can be pretty scary when he wants to be, and Lance is grateful that’s almost never. He’s worried that might change with how stubborn Keith is. Lance takes them by the café he frequents, but it’s closed right now, so Lance drags Keith into the McDonalds next store. Keith orders a black coffee and nothing else. Lance sighs and orders breakfast for both of them once Keith is out of earshot, shooting the other boy a wary look from across the room.

“So what do you like to do for fun?” Lance asks as he slides into the booth across from Keith, tossing the egg sandwich he bought him at his face. Keith glares at it and mumbles something about having eaten at home, and the thing is, Lance doesn’t believe him. He wants to, but … he knows skaters like Keith, determined and single-minded and more sensitive than they’d ever admit out loud. He knows what they’ll try to win, and Lance isn’t willing to let Keith fall into those habits if he can be there to stop it.

Keith unwraps the egg sandwich with a small sigh, glancing up at Lance and giving him a crooked grin. Lance takes it as a victory. Then Keith frowns, eyebrows scrunching together as he seems to realized that Lance has asked him a question. “For fun?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’re not on the ice?” Lance answers with a small grin, a small part of him worried that Keith has maybe never heard of fun before. He hasn’t seen _Luck of The Irish_ after all, how much fun could there really be in his life? “For example, I play the guitar, am a Mario Kart and Zelda champion, watch a lot of bad movies, sometimes play a pickup game of soccer, and I like taking care of myself with face masks.”

“Oh. I do ballet,” Keith says after a bit before taking a small bite out of his egg sandwich. Lance frowns tightly, eyebrows sloping downward, as he just barely stops himself from mouthing ‘really’ at the other boy. It’s not Keith’s fault he was apparently raised to be some kind of figure skating robot (if robots were alternatively hotheaded or looked like they wanted to cry but were hiding it).

Keith, ballet is part of our training regime, it doesn’t count,” Lance answers with an over the top groan, biting into his breakfast while shaking his head. Keith shakes his head a little, kicking Lance softly under the table. Lance blinks a little because is Keith playing footsie … no, he wouldn’t.

“But I actually like it!” Keith calls back with a small pout and Lance finally gives in, nodding for Keith to continue, because Lance refuses to believe that’s his only hobby. Not even Keith could be that out of touch. “I read, mostly sci-fi. And I garden?”

“Do you?” Lance asks before he can stop himself, the mocking-flirting tone he uses on his more playful sparring partners. Keith flushes a little and Lance bites his lip and glances away from Keith, because now he’s gone and made things awkward. Great.

“I – yeah, I do,” Keith answers in a surprisingly raspy voice, like he’d tried to swallow and speak at the same time. The flush is gone by the time Lance glances back at him, replaced with his usual aloof expression. Lance swears there’s still a hint of a sparkle in his gaze though.

“Bring me flowers when I win sometime,” Lance says with a small smile, letting a hint of playfulness enter his voice this time. He’s rewarded with a small smile from Keith who takes a sip of his coffee and looks over at Lance through his eyelashes, and if Lance didn’t know better, he’d swear the other boy was flirting with him. But Keith doesn’t flirt with anyone, doesn’t even play nice with the reporters even though he’s adorable and could have like, a million sponsors by now if he wanted. Lance is just kidding himself.

“Mostly vegetables,” Keith murmurs, his smile growing wider as he leans toward Lance, one foot brushing against his before it pulls back. If Lance looks closely he can see the twinkle in Keith’s eyes, the slight, almost invisible heat of his cheeks. Keith is … Keith _is_ flirting with him. Oh my God.

“Then bring me a broccoli bouquet,” Lance finally splutters, wriggling his eyebrows a little as he tries to regain his cool. The moment’s gone either way, Keith pulling back abruptly and taking out his the packet on his routine. Lance sighs into his coffee and pulls out his own, but a soft smile and big dark eyes haunt his mind for long after.

* * *

Keith lands another wobbly quadruple toe loop and mutters a string of curses under his breath, before turning on his heel to go into a sequence to lead up to his next quad. Coran says he can only do three until he gets … better at jumping again, but Keith figures if he shows Coran he can do more, he’ll bend his rules. Shiro always did. Keith’s landing is wobbly and he frowns tightly, because why are half his landings wobbly lately?

Shiro says it’s because he’s overworking himself, but Keith knows his limits. He’s 18, not some little kid who needs to be told how to take care of himself. Besides, Shiro couldn’t understand anyway. Shiro is built like a tank and still managed to have some of the best jumps in figure skating. Keith’s body is ideal for skating – too ideal, _too flexible_ rings in his head from his last trainer – and he isn’t half as good. Keith needs to be if he wants to live up to Shiro’s expectations, to America’s. Keith let everyone down at Worlds and he can’t do it again. Not when -

“Keith, you need to come off the ice,” Coran’s voice rings out as Keith is in the middle of attempting a Pearl spin because at least he can actually still do that. Keith splutters halfway through, pulling himself upright as he gives his coach a surprised look. He didn’t expect Coran to get here for another hour. They have mornings off on Thursdays, training with Coran isn’t until the afternoon. Coran raises an eyebrows as he gestures toward himself with his hand again when Keith doesn’t move from where he’s standing in the middle of the ice.

“But I’m not done,” Keith says as he glides toward the edge of the rink, frowning tightly when Coran raises an eyebrow at him and glances at the bench. Keith follows his gaze but doesn’t move, crossing his arms instead because he doesn’t have time for this. He needs to train.

“Yes you are, young man,” Coran corrects him with a warm smile, but Keith can hear the steel underlying the silky tones of his voice as he gently pulls on Keith’s arm. Keith hates how easily he’s pulled off the ice, like he weighs nothing. So much for all that conditioning he’s been doing. Coran gives him a worried look as he leads him over to the bench. “You’ve been skating for three hours without a break.”

“I skate for five hours without a break all the time,” Keith answers with an easy shrug, unlacing a skate and trying to decide on what to do with the rest of his morning. He sees Lance sneak in; smile easy but gaze worried, and Keith gives him a quick nod of acknowledgment. At least maybe he’ll have an ally now about how overprotective Coran is being. Lance must have had to fight him about practice all the time.

“Well Shiro shouldn’t have let you,” Coran answers in a firm voice, shaking his head a little and giving Keith a look that makes Keith bristle. It’s pity for him and judgment for Shiro, and neither of them is deserved. Keith’s mistakes are, have always been his own, and whatever else someone can say about Keith, he owns that. He’s not going to sit here and let Coran put any blame on Shiro for them.

“I was fine!” Keith snaps as he takes off a skate, glancing down at his boot. He bites his lips and closes his eyes, taking three sharp breaths the way Shiro taught him to whenever he got frustrated. Coran might be wrong, but it’s not his fault he is. He just doesn’t know Keith or Shiro that well yet. He’ll understand soon.

“You were exhausted,” Coran corrects him and gives him a once over that makes Keith stiffen. Suddenly his own ragged breathing, his sore limbs, are far more apparent to him than they were a minute ago. Maybe it’s because he’s off the ice, or maybe it’s because Coran won’t let him ignore how much his body is screaming at him like he normally does. “It’s no wonder you fell so many times at Worlds, you need to give your body time to recover. Which is why I’ve made you this.”

Keith is handed another red packet, about the same size as his routine, though it has days of the week marked off. Keith opens it and frowns, cocking his head a little bit as he sees exercise routines and types of food. Does Coran think he can’t cook? Did Lance tell him that? “What is this?”

“It’s a training schedule and nutrition plan,” Lance pipes up as he comes through the rink entrance, sauntering over to Keith. He glances over Keith’s shoulder at the book, sliding down the different exercise routines and meals. There are times and lengths by them, now that Keith looks a little more closely. But why would he need one of these? And why are there so many rules? Lance smirks a little as he thumbs a drawing of a mini Coran. “Yours has angrier tiny Coran’s on it than mine.”

“This says I have to have a trainer whenever I want to work out,” Keith mutters as he gets to a list titled ‘Rules’ in bright red letters. Keith ignores the rest because that’s the one he takes issue with, since he’s not going to go drinking the night before a competition anyway. What kind of idiot would?

“That includes me though! For now, think of it as a … precaution,” Coran throws out with a small smile as he pats Keith on the head, and Keith looks up at him in shock. Coran is treating him like a little kid. Keith knew he coddled his skaters, he never should’ve trusted Shiro on that front. Keith likes Coran, but Keith knows his limits and he knows when they need to be pushed. Coran is too much of a nice guy to push them as much as Keith needs. Keith luckily isn’t nearly as nice to himself.

“I work out without a trainer all the time!” Keith says instead of all that, crossing his arms. He gives Coran a sharp look, preparing himself to argue with the older man. Keith doesn’t want to, but if it will help Coran understand what he does and doesn’t need from a coach, it will be better in the long run. Coran raises an eyebrow, a twinkle Keith doesn’t understand coming into his eye.

“Hey look, I hear Luxia calling us for our next lesson,” Lance suddenly calls as he grabs Keith’s arm, jerking him forward. Keith stumbles, glancing up at Lance with a narrowed gaze. “Let’s go Keith.”

Midway through ballet class, Keith manages to lose himself in the motions, in the easy flexibility and stretches, in the jumps that aren’t betraying him. A small treacherous part wonders if Keith shouldn’t abandon figure skating for ballet altogether, but the rest of him silences that part of him. He has the Olympics to go to, a Gold to get, for Shiro. Plus he’s too short to be a ballet dancer; all the guys are 5’10’. Keith is 5’6 and ½’ on a good day. Keith slides into a back bend and glances over to find Lance watching him with wide eyes.

Keith turns away to hide the emotions that causes in his stomach, focusing on his arabesque. He can’t afford distractions, as much as he’d like to make out with Lance. Plus, Lance probably doesn’t want to make out with him. He has a million fan girls who are all beautiful and charming and his real life best friend is a handsome hockey player who is also a gourmet chef. For all Keith knows they’re already dating. And even if they’re not, Lance is ridiculously beautiful, all long, lean limbs and a perfect smile and bright blue eyes, topped off by perfectly messy hair and smooth skin. Keith looks like a gargoyle who hasn’t gotten enough sleep in a decade.

So yeah, friendship is on the table. Dating is probably out. Keith comes to a full stop on his last move, dropping into a low bend so his hair brushes against the floor. Lance stares over at him, eyes wide as Keith holds it for a good minute before rolling himself up. Keith glances over at him, mouth a small ‘o’ because he doesn’t get why Lance is staring. “Why did you and Shiro focus on jumping so much when you can do that?”

“Listen to how commentators talk about jumping versus turns and figure it out,” Keith says just a little too harshly, biting his lip as he leans against the barre. He knows what the score is nowadays. A skater needs quads, and lots of them, if they want to score well. Someone having as much trouble landing more than two in a free skate as he isn’t going to get very far. They might not make it past one season. Keith feels a small nudge on his shoulder and glances up to find Lance giving him a kind smile.

“Not all commentators,” Lance says as he glances over at Keith. Keith feels warm all the way down to his battered toes, and this is why Lance has so many sponsors and fans. He can reassure Keith with just a few words and a flash of that smile, and Keith isn’t an easy person to reassure. But Lance looks and sounds so confident in him, how could Keith not believe him?

“Point,” Keith admits with a lopsided smile of his own, reaching out to put a hand on Lance’s shoulder as a show of thanks. Lance glances down at it, gaze curious, but he doesn’t push his hand away and Keith ends up letting it rest there. Shiro’d made him take some dating quiz once and it said he showed affection through touch. Maybe that’s true for being grateful too. Keith then gives Lance a more distant look, memories of his first years of skating, before Shiro, before he had a home of sorts. “I like being weightless.”

 “I know you think jumping is better because you wanted to be Corbin Bleu or whatever, but you really are a great ballet dancer,” Lance assures him with a warm smile, even as Keith lets out a small groan, shaking his head as Lance laughs at him playfully. Keith has no idea who that is, first of all, but he’s not about to admit that to Lance.

“I meant it when I said I liked it,” Keith answers instead, bending over to do some more stretching. He does, he loves the speed and agility, the way he can lose himself in ballet and the spins and step sequences on the ice. There just isn’t time to let himself be lost in competition. But Keith has the feeling that is something Lance probably understands from the wistful look on his face. Keith wonders if they can convince Coran to let them switch routines. “And thanks.”

“I mean it, you’re way more flexible than me, you can still do spins and turns most guys can’t,” Lance says, and his grin turns a little bitter for a second, as though it pains him to admit it. Keith freezes, expression going carefully blank the way he learned at foster care when he didn’t want a fight. Not that Keith’s poker face ever got that good, since Lance winces and puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder the same way Keith had moments ago. “You got stuff you can make work for you.”

“Are you trying to give me a pep talk?” Keith asks, voice soft and confused, before looking up at the ceiling so Lance can’t see the confusion or embarrassment in his gaze. He knows it’s a stupid question, but Lance doesn’t like him, has never liked him. Keith doesn’t get how that’s changed so much in the past month just because their rink mates instead of just rivals. Maybe Shiro was right about Keith needing more people than just him, because knowing him didn’t prepare Keith for his crush not hating him anymore at all. Or changing coaches and styles or well. Anything that’s happened in the last six months.

“I – kind of, you seemed a little down, and I hate seeing a pretty face looking sad,” Lance tells him with a grin, wriggling his eyebrows. Keith flushes before he can stop himself or hide it, mouth opening a little, because what is Lance talking about? Lance can be a little abrasive when he’s in a bad mood, but he’s not an asshole. But then Keith has no idea why he’d say that Maybe it’s another reference Keith doesn’t know. “Or you know, any kind of face.”

 “It’s just a lot of changes all at once,” Keith admits as he crosses his arms and lets out a small noise of defeat. He can’t make things go back to how they were before, so he just has to find a way to work his way back to where he was last year. Even if he has to do it alone.

“Yeah, Coran is pretty serious about the healthy and happy part of figure skating training,” Lance says with a shrug as he turns to walk toward the changing room. Keith stills for a moment, because he hadn’t even thought about that part yet. Keith’s going to fall behind and lose what little muscle he ‘s built so far if he follows Coran’s plan.

“Happy isn’t a training technique,” Keith mutters as he follows Lance to the door, arms still crossed. Happiness has never been a concern of his. Keith goes over his options. Keith hates lying and more to the point, he’s really bad at it. But … maybe if Keith can show Coran how much better he does when he pushes himself past his limits, how Keith needs to be perfect if they’re going to sell him to sponsors, Coran will understand. All it would take is one goo

“Not for most coaches, maybe, but Coran does stuff his own way,” Lance answers as he grabs his duffle bag from the floor. Keith picks up his own, though he doesn’t want to go home yet. Shiro will try and make him start the diet and exercise plan right away. He takes that kind of stuff really seriously now that he’s coaching people besides (instead of) Keith. Keith just doesn’t know why it has to apply to him too. “Once you figure it out, you’ll get it. You might even like it.”

Keith stares back at Lance, gaze growing tighter as he considers his options. He’s a bad liar, and nobody else is backing down from the idea that Keith suddenly needs more guidance than he’s had in his life before. If Keith is going to prove them wrong, his performance is going to need to improve over night. Keith … Keith can do that. He has before. “I’ll … figure it out.”

“Yeah you will, I can help with that too, you know,” Lance tells him with a playful smile, and Keith pushes down the part of him that bristles at that. Keith doesn’t need help. He’s fine. He just needs to concentrate more. “So you wanna grab lunch?”

“You want to have lunch with me?” Keith asks, his fears forgotten in the face of Lance’s offer. No one has ever asked him that before, at least not without a reason.

“Yeah?” Lance says as his eyebrows scrunch together a little, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder. Keith nods after a moment, trying to smile, though he has the feeling it looks more like a confused grimace. Lance just returns it with a bright one of his own though. “Does 2 work for you? I have my last conditioning session at 1 today,”

“2 is great,” Keith answers with a nod, still holding his duffle bag between his hands. He waits until Lance leaves the locker room before he puts it down and heads for the weight room. Keith has a gym membership here; he might as well use it. He feels a little guilty, but Coran didn’t say when they were putting this program into place. A few more days of training won’t hurt him and besides, Keith isn’t falling at practice nearly as much as he did at Worlds. If he can do a perfect routine and show Coran how he did … maybe some thing can stay the same.  

* * *

Lance is feeling ballet class and life in general. His routine is pretty much perfect at this point, Lance landing every jump without a single wobble the last time he did it, and managing to give some classic Lance Ramirez flair to his spins and steps. And he’s back to his usual form in his ballet class, or at least something close. Lance won’t ever have the flexibility he had as a kid, but he’s still more flexible than a lot of male skaters out there and his spins are more precise than they were as a kid. It’s a trade off, but one Lance is learning to accept little by little.

It doesn’t mean Lance doesn’t get jealous or a little petty towards more flexible or focused skaters sometimes but … that’s (a little) harder when they’re your friends.

Because He and Keith are sharing one meal a day, and Keith is actually kind of nice now that he’s starting to come out of his shell. A little too focused on skating sometimes, but it’s not like he’s the only skater that’s true for. And yeah, he is an impulsive hothead, but he’s actually kind of sensitive too. He cares a lot about his friends – and Lance thinks he might be one – and about his causes. Keith impulse buys plants or spends hours researching cryptids, and he’s actually like, really awkward, but in a cute way. And Keith’s determination and dedication is pretty admirable. Lance … Lance likes Keith, and he’s kind of sad they didn’t become friends earlier.

Which is why Lance is worried as he watches Keith slog through a workout for the third time in a week, dark circles under his eyes and expression blank more often than not. It’s not very Keith, who usually is almost too expressive. He’s easier to read than a dictionary. “Hey, did you get enough sleep last night?”

“What, why?” Keith asks, voice slightly drowsy as he glances over at Lance. He’s swaying on his feet as he comes to Lance’s side. Lance scoffs a little, because yeah, Keith _clearly_ isn’t sleeping enough right now. Coran’s going to have add a sleeping schedule to his training program. Keith gives him a small, lazy smile as he grabs his duffle bag, pulling a cropped sweater over his workout T-shirt instead of changing. The sweater hangs off one shoulder, removing pale skin and muscle but also a sharp shoulder blade. Lance has a sinking feeling it wasn’t a define feature.

“You seemed kind of out of it in class,” Lance mutters with a shrug, trying to keep things casual. He’s Keith’s rink mate, not his dad. Lance doesn’t want Keith to feel like he’s trying to pressure him or judge him.

“Oh. I’m fine,” Keith says, looking away and then up at the ceiling. Lance blinks a little because Keith is clearly lying, Lance just isn’t sure why he is or well. Why Keith isn’t okay. If Keith’s training is too tough, he should let Coran know rather than let his pride get in his way. Lance … knows a lot about that. Speaking of, that’s actually why he needs to talk to Keith, because while his performance is good, it could be even better. “Is there something you wanted?”

“Show me how to focus like you do,” Lance asks Keith, gaze narrowing as he takes a step closer to Keith. Keith blinks back at him and makes that adorably confused expression of his, cocking his head a little so his bangs fall across his forehead a little.

“Focus?” Keith asks after a beat, giving Lance an incredulous look for a moment. His eyebrows are scrunched together, lips pursed as he gives Lance a considering look. Lance can almost see the gears turning in Keith’s head as he tries to figure out if Lance is making a joke he doesn’t get or if focus is a technique he should know about or, well, okay Lance doesn’t know Keith’s inner workings that well besides Keith being socially awkward. They’ve only been friends for a month, sue him.

“You know, that thing where you get your head in the zone and go all skating Keith like you’re a superhero or something,” Lance says with a wide grin, throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulder as they walk out of the gym. Keith leans into his touch a little, and Lance wonders if Keith is flirting again, but pushes the thought aside. Keith Kim doesn’t flirt.

“Wow, I really lost the superpower lottery,” Keith murmurs and lets out another laugh, nervous and soft as he glances over at Lance. Lance lets out a small chortle, half because it’s funny and half because he’s never heard Keith make a joke before. Lance didn’t realize he could before now. Lance directs them toward a small public garden near the gym, sighing in relief when he doesn’t see anyone there. Lance would rather not have an audience for whatever he’s about to learn from Keith.

“You know what I mean,” Lance says back teasingly. He stops when they come up to a willow tree with a bench in front of it, gesturing at Keith.

“I thought you wanted me to help you work on your stamina?” Keith asks, cocking his head a little as he takes a seat on the bench. Lance sits down next to him, their knees pressing together as the long branches of the willow trees frame them both. It’s kind of ... romantic, or it would be if they weren’t talking about workout techniques. Lance and Keith have been working together, Keith helping the trainer push Lance during conditioning and Lance … well, he wants to help Keith, but Keith is already more flexible than him and knows like, everything about jumps because Shiro is his best friend. Lance feels a little useless sometimes, if he’s totally honest.

“Which you have with those increasing intensity sessions and my abs hate you for it, but I wanna know about this too,” Lance says with a warm grin, pushing away the guilt bubbling in his gut. He’ll find a way to help Keith soon. Besides, it’s unfair to Keith to assume he’s only helping Lance because he wants something back.

“Okay,” Keith mutters and then he takes Lance by the hand and gestures for Lance to watch him. Lance watches as Keith closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, face first becoming relaxed and then more determined.

“Keith, you have to tell me what you’re doing,” Lance says when a few more seconds pass with Keith just breathing and looking serious, because while Keith’s nice to looking, Lance needs words here. Keith opens his eyes, blinking owlishly as he stares up at Lance. Keith looks a little dazed as he comes out the zone, and Lance gives him a slow nod and gestures at Keith’s thin but well-shaped lips.

“Right,” Keith murmurs after a beat, pressing his hands over Lance’s as he speaks. He gives Lance a firm nod, holding his gaze as he directs him. “Okay, close your eyes and visualize the ice.”

“Okay,” Lance says as he closes his eyes and imagines the ice, beautiful and inviting in front of him. It’s Lance’s – their – home rink, because he figures that his mental space should be a comforting one.

“Now, go through your routine. Follow your instincts, but be realistic about where you are right now with spins and jumps. You can’t push forward unless you know where you’re starting from,” Keith explains in a surprisingly calm voice, though there’s hints of warmth there that make Lance smile. Lance tries to go through his program, though he keeps either getting caught up in the technical details or for the narrative story he’s made up for it. “You might wanna picture yourself doing flips, but remember, patience yields focus.”

“Okay, patience yields focus,” Lance repeats the words, trying to imitate the same reverent tone Keith used. Keith’s explanation isn’t bad, and Lance knows this technique is basically meditation 101 except skating focused. Lance tries to get into it, but yeah. It’s not gonna happen. “Yeah, this isn’t doing anything for me.”

Keith looks over at him in surprise, mouth falling over a little as he leans over toward Lance, brushing his hand further up his arm. Lance can’t tell if Keith knows what he’s doing or not. “Wait, really? It’s what Shiro’s been telling me since I was 14.”

“Maybe it works better from a coach, but yeah, think I’m gonna need my own catchphrase,” Lance answers with a small laugh as he gets up from the bench, one of the leaves of the willow tree gently brushing against his chin as he does. Lance offers Keith his hand thoughtlessly. Keith stares at it, eyes wide and thoughtful, biting his lip as though he’s trying to figure out what it means. Lance pulls his hand back before Keith can ask what he’s doing. He doesn’t need to tell Keith he just tried to grab his hand like this was a date.

“I’m walking home today, I know you live the same way, wan to walk together?” Keith asks as he gets up from the bench, hugging his sweater a little closer to him. Keith looks away gaze almost a little wistful as they cross the street and head down the sidewalk. , Maybe this is how he and Shiro used to walk home together.

 “So you got any plans for Friday night? My friend Hunk is home from college for the weekend, so he and I are having a Disney night,” Lance asks when the silence starts to grow awkward, grinning over at Keith. Keith looks back at him, quirking an eyebrow. Lance’s smile widens, because he realizes Keith hasn’t met Hunk yet. Lance thinks they’d get along. “I was hoping our friend Pidge could come, but she’s two years behind us and doing some kind of science trip. Kids.”

“Shiro and I are going hiking tomorrow. I was gonna train otherwise, I guess,” Keith mutters, and he looks toward the other side of the street again, though Lance can see the way his eyebrows slope down and the way his frown grows tighter. Keith is lonely. “You guys hang out most weekends?”

“Every other for sure –speak of the devil. “Hey Hunk!” Lance calls out as he sees Hunk by his car, Hunk’s mom waving at him from the front lawn. Lance already knows what he’s going to do, even if a part of him feels a little nervous about it. “Keith, wait here for a second, will you?”

“Wait, why?” Keith asks at the same time he nods in agreement, blinking a little. Lance doesn’t stop to answer him, making his way to Hunk’s front yard. Lance glances back to make sure that Keith is still there, waiting by the corner. Then Lance turns to Hunk’s bright smile and scrunched eyebrows, a knowing twinkle in his friend’s eyes. Lance is glad Hunk’s mom already went inside so they can’t double team him.

“Hunk, my friend, see that boy over there? That is Keith Kim,” Lance whispers dramatically, gesturing over at Keith. Lance’s expression grows a little softer as he sees Keith nervously shifting side to side, fidgeting with the edge of his sweater sleeve.

“Yeah, I know what your rival looks like, you talk about him and send me mullet updates about him at like, every competition,” Hunk reminds him with a raised eyebrow, glancing over at Keith briefly and then back to Lance with a small laugh. Okay, Lance may have talked about Keith and the various ways he found Keith annoying (or impressive. Hunk’s leans forward, eyebrows scrunching together again, and Lance can’t blame him for being curious. He would be too if Hunk … well, okay, Hunk’s too nice to have rivals, but if he wasn’t.

“Well, he’s not my rival anymore,” Lance says with a shrug and Hunk’s eyes widen, mouth forming into a small ‘o’. Oh yeah, that does sound like one of them is quitting or something. “I mean, he is, but he’s also my rink mate and he’s actually a pretty good guy, so can he come to movie night?”

“You _like_ him,” Hunk murmurs with a knowing grin, gaze narrowing as he takes in Lance’s expression. Lance’s eyes widen because him, _like_ Keith? Well, okay, Lance has spent a lot of time wondering if Keith’s flirting with him or not lately, but anyone would. Keith’s really bad at sending clear signals. And yeah, Lance has been thinking about how Keith is pretty, but that’s more because … he’s around Keith a lot and Keith is pretty. That doesn’t mean Lance wants to date him. He’s still his rival and a hothead and – Keith.

“It’s not like that,” Lance just mutters, smiling sheepishly as he throws his arm around Hunk’s shoulder and turns them around toward Keith. Keith glances over at him, arms crossed, but then he gives Lance one of those little smiles of his and Lance wonders if maybe Hunk has a point. “Not yet anyway, but I guess he’s kind of cute, in an awkward way.”

Hunk grins as they walk over to Keith, leaning over to whisper in Lance’s ear. He wriggles his eyebrows right before he does, the same way Lance did the first time Hunk asked Shay out. This is payback. “Kiss the boy is more than your song, it’s your life –“

“Shut up,” Lance mutters, shaking his head at Hunk’s shit-eating grin because it really isn’t like that yet. Lance likes Keith a lot and wants to be his friend, but he’d know if he had a crush on him. Besides, he doesn’t want Keith to overhear and get the wrong idea right when they’re about to hopefully go hang out all night. It might make things awkward. “Keith, come with us. You need see _Go Figure_ if you’re really gonna be a top skater.”

“Okay,” Keith says after a beat, and his smile is so sweet that Lance can’t even deny the warmth in his chest this time. Yet might come very soon after all.

* * *

  Keith sighs as he goes into the second round of sit ups, a small part of him wishing he could still be in bed. He barely got any sleep last night because he ended up staying so late with Hunk and Lance. Lance insisted Keith needed to see every single _Halloweentown_ even though it’s still only September, and then Hunk made them all homemade pizza because apparently he’s some kind of cooking prodigy. Hunk’s a good guy, outgoing and kind, with a ready laugh. He’s a little blunt, since out of nowhere he declared that Rink Mate Keith was funny compared to Rival Keith (and Lance had quickly changed the subject to their favorite Disney movies), but Keith doesn’t mind that.

It was … nice, really nice. Keith doesn’t regret it even it meant he lost an entire night of training. That alone scares Keith a little. But now Keith needs to make up for it. Coran schedules all of their weekend training for the afternoon, so Keith has all morning to focus on his muscles. They’re still pretty much where they were a month ago, and Keith needs to be improving faster than that if Coran’s going to add back all four of his missing jumps. Keith’s only got 9 in his routine now. So that means it’s time for barbell lunges.

 “Keith, what are you doing?” Shiro asks and Keith nearly drops the weights he’s reaching for as he looks over his shoulder at Shiro. Shiro frowns at him, gaze a little worried as he walks over to Keith, raising one eyebrow the same way he used to when Keith tried to sneak out to look for cryptids when they were staying at the same hotels. That’s how Keith got to know Shiro in the first place, back when he was first starting out in Juniors and Shiro’s career was coming to a sudden end.

Keith blinks a little as he glances up at Shiro, gazing away from Shiro and trying to think of an excuse. None come to mind so eventually Keith just gives Shiro a crooked smile and shrugs carelessly. “Weights?”

“I’m looking at your schedule, and it doesn’t say anything about conditioning today, in fact it says a lot about breakfast,” Shiro notes with a small smile as he comes over to Keith’s side, taking the barbell from his hands and putting back on the floor.

“You have a copy of my nutrition plan?” Keith asks with a huff, crossing his arms as he leans against his dresser. He doesn’t bother trying to grab the barbell back or arguing with Shiro. He knows he’s not going to win, not when Shiro looks so concerned about him.

“Coran gave it to me to make sure you were following the rules at home too,” Shiro answers with a small sigh. Shiro shakes his head a little as he ruffles Keith’s hair, knocking some of it out of his ponytail. Keith frowns as it brushes against the top of his shoulder; it’s getting pretty long. He should probably cut it soon.

“I’m not a little kid,” Keith mutters as steps around Shiro and back toward his yoga mat. Keith wonders if he can convince Shiro to at least let him do a little bit of core work. That’s necessary for jumps too, and it’s not weights if that’s the issue. Shiro raises an eyebrow as Shiro sees Keith step toward the mat again. Keith sighs, crossing his arms a little more tightly as he glares at Shiro with an expression Shiro affectionately describes as a ‘pout’. Shiro raises an eyebrow, smirking a little and Keith suddenly uncrosses his arms, looking away to try and hide his embarrassment. “I’m fine.”

“You look a little anxious,” Shiro says with a small smile as he throws his arm around Keith’s shoulder again, ushering Keith toward his bedroom door. Keith is a little anxious; he’s doing his routine in full today as a practice run for the season. It’s not like Keith hasn’t done it before, and without falls too; but if he wants to get Coran to add more jumps, he has to be perfect. Keith hasn’t been once yet. “Scrambled eggs help with that sometimes.”

Shiro grin grows wider, and he gives Keith a serious look. Keith stares back and a beat passes between them. Suddenly Keith understands why Shiro came up to his room in the first place. “… You need me to make them don’t you?”

“Yeah, I already ruined them once,” Shiro admits with a small wince, shaking his head a little bit as he glances down the hallway. Keith grimaces a bit as imagines the scene waiting for him in the kitchen. About once a month or so, Shiro will decide it’s time he learn how to cook and try to make something simple. Most times they end up ordering pizza before trying to clean the kitchen, but it’s 9:30 in the morning right now.

“Wow,” Keith murmurs with a sigh as he starts heading toward the kitchen, wondering if Shiro will leave him alone long enough to get a workout in. He’s supposed to be at the rink by 11. Keith wants to impress Coran. And Lance. Keith glances over at Shiro, who’s looking at the pan like he might try again. So much for fitting in more exercise. “Okay, you make coffee, I’ll handle the eggs.”

“Perfect, I’ll get juice for you too,” Shiro says with a smile as he steps over to the fridge. There’s a warm glint in his eye, teasing too, the one that has come in more and more as the years pass. Keith isn’t sure what it means, except that things are changing again. Everything has been lately and all Keith knows is that he doesn’t want them to; Shiro is his mentor and his idol. Keith doesn’t what that expression, the teasing, mean for that.

“Sugar,” Keith calls out as he forces himself away from his own head and onto the present, where two glasses of orange juice already sit on the counter. Keith sticks his tongue out without even thinking about it and Shiro scoffs at him and slides the juice his way. Maybe Shiro isn’t the only one changing things after all. “Stupid Shiro.”

Keith arrives at the rink just in time to see Lance starting his routine, letting out a soft sigh as he leans against the edge of the rink. Keith watches as Lance slides into his first set of spins, gliding into a perfect Y spin. His leg extension is perfect, long and lean as it cuts through the air before immediately goes into pancake spin. Lance smiles as he pulls himself up, extending his arms out like the wings of a dragon before he suddenly leaps up into a triple axel immediately followed by a double toe loop. Lance has a natural strength in his jumps that someone wouldn’t guess for how lanky he is off the ice. Then after another step sequence Keith watches Lance land a perfect quad salchow, moving through the air like he’s sliding across the waves. Lance looks like he’s telling a story even when he jumps.

Lance goes into another set of spins, gliding across the ice with a flair Keith knows he could never even imitate, let alone have. Lance smiles as he goes into his step sequence, bright and charming. Keith lets out a soft sigh as he watches him, heart twisting a little. Keith’s always loved Lance’s skating, the beautiful step sequences and turns, the technical accuracy, the beauty and lean lines of Lance’s body as he moves across the ice like he owns it.

Lance is one of Keith’s favorite skaters, even without the crush. But … before Keith knew Lance he thought the smiles, the playful turns and wrist flicks were all Lance showing off, goofing off. Keith knew Lance worked hard because they all had to, but he hadn’t realized how much Lance loves skating.

Now Keith knows the smiles and turns of the wrist are because Lance is _happy_ on the ice, alive. It makes everything about Lance’s skating even more impressive than it was before. Lance slides into his ending pose; staring over at Keith with a nervous grin, gaze curious as he starts to make his way across the rink and towards him.

 “Lance, that was incredible,” Keith murmurs, as Lance gets to his side, not able to stop himself before he speaks. Keith bites his lip, willing away his flush as he stares up at Lance.

Lance’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, mouth opening and then closing like what Keith surprises him said. Keith blinks a little at that, because there’s no way Lance doesn’t know he’s an amazing skater, right? Does he not know Keith thinks he’s a great skater? Lance suddenly smiles, small and anxious as he leans toward Keith a little more. “Wait, you really think so?”

“Yeah, your jumps are really good,” Keith tells him with a firm nod, trying to make his voice sure even if his words fell a little flat. Keith knows he’s not great at saying how he feels, even if his face is. Keith presses a hand on Lance’s shoulder, trying to maintain eye contact and giving Lance’s shoulder a small squeeze. “And you’re like, really graceful.”

“Thanks, Keith,” Lance says with a small laugh, but it’s friendly and feels like it’s shared even as Lance slides away from his grip so he can bend down to undo his skates. Keith starts doing his stretches, reminding himself he needs to focus on his routine. He still ends up staring at Lance. Keith watches him, probably a little too intently because he almost starts when Lance suddenly glances back at him with a grin and one raised eyebrow. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“That waits to be seen,” Keith mutters ruefully as he stretches further down his leg, lips pressing into a thin line. His mind can’t help wandering back to all the times he’s fallen or bent too far over the past few months. Keith wants today to be perfect, needs it to be, but he’s not sure it can be.

“Hey, I’ve seen you skate before,” Lance reminds him with a warm grin as he bends over so their eye to eye, and Lance returns it with a small one of his own. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Back before … before things changed,” Keith says, voice a little tight as he pulls himself up and heads to the ice to start his warm up. Keith needs to land every jump perfectly, even the ones he’s considering adding without asking about first. Keith can’t be the type of skater Coran and Shiro want him to be, they’re missing the obvious. Keith just isn’t sure if he can be the skater he wants to be anymore either. Keith glances back at Lance, voice rising a little as he finishes his thought. “I’m not the same skater I was a year ago.”

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Coran calls out as he walks down from the upper part of the stands, grinning brightly as he presses a hand onto Keith’s shoulder. Sometimes Keith wonders if he’s going to get a permanent handprint there from all the times someone’s done that. He wonders how off-putting he must be that no one ever tries to hug him. “No, indeed, growing and changing is a part of being a skater.”

Keith just nods and heads out to the ice, gliding into his step sequence and letting the ice lead him. Keith lands his triple axel and then his triple toe loop with ease, smiling a little to himself when he doesn’t wobble at all. He can do this. Keith goes into his Biellmann split and turns it into a Pearl just because he can, before going into an I spin a moment later. Keith wonders if he could work the splits into one of his turns, or maybe right after a jump. Maybe that would be too much. Keith glides into his quadruple salchow, some of his nerves fading, only to come back in full force a moment later. He overextended his legs. Keith’s not going to land it.

“Please, no,” Keith murmurs to himself as he hits the ice, crashing down with a low thud. Keith sits up and then leans forward, pressing his palm flat against the ice as he stares at his blurred reflection in the ice. He fucked up again.

 Keith feels like he’s only been kneeling for a few seconds when he hears footsteps on the ice. Keith glances up from the ice, seeing Lance and Coran racing over to him with worried expressions. Lance stops a few feet in front of him, frowning tightly as he holds out a hand in front of him. Keith bites his lips and closes his eyes, not even wanting to imagine how weak he must look right now. He must seem pathetic on top of everything else. “Keith, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Keith snaps, voice blunt and harsh as he pulls away from both of them, shakily pulling himself up from the ice. When he glances up, he expects Lance and Coran to be angry or hurt, and there’s a little of the latter. But mostly Lance still looks worried more than anything else, eyebrows sloping down and gaze anxious as he moves a little closer to Keith. “I mean, I’m fine. I just fell.”

“Yeah, but you kind of not didn’t get up,” Lance mutters softly as he gives Keith a once over, looking for injuries besides Keith’s wounded pride. Keith grimaces but tries to give Lance a reassuring look as he carefully makes his way back to the end of the rink. Keith slides onto the bench and presses his elbows against his thighs, burying his face into his hands for a few seconds. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Lance and Coran are standing in front of him.

“I – I’m just embarrassed,” Keith finally says as he glances up at the two of them, biting his lip a little. He knows just how stupid it sounds. But Lance nods, smile soft and understanding, while Coran leans over and ruffles his hair a little.

 “You don’t need to be, everyone falls, especially when they’ve been overworking themselves!” Coran says in his usual bordering too enthusiastic voice, but there’s a knowing twinkle in his gaze, a gentle warning.

“I don’t! I’m supposed to be like Shiro!” Keith cries, his own voice just a little too loud as it rings across the ice. Lance’s eyebrows shoot up and Keith quickly looks down and away, frowning a little and hoping that somehow, they don’t understand what he means. Keith doesn’t want to put his issues onto Lance or Coran, and he really doesn’t want this getting back to Shiro. He chose Keith as his first student for a reason, and Keith keeps not living up to it and he can’t skate the way Coran wants him too and get sponsors, even if it’s a better routine for him. Keith can’t find a way out of this. “I mean –“

“What you said, but you’re not like Shiro, you have different strengths as a skater, and that’s okay,” Coran tells him in a firm voice, gently holding up a hand when Keith opens his mouth to argue. Next to him Lance watches Keith with worried eyes, and Keith barely hears him as he mutters something about how Keith should concentrate on turns more since he’s so bendy. Coran suddenly smiles and glances between them, taking a step back from the bench. “You two should chat.”

Keith thinks Coran means he and Shiro until he walks away from the grey benches altogether, disappearing behind the locker room doors. Keith crosses his arms tightly as he stares at the slowly closing doors, not acknowledging Lance as he slides next to him on the bench. Lance slides an arm across his shoulder without saying anything, and Keith finally takes a deep breath as he glances over at Lance gaze heavy with embarrassment and shame. What he’s about to say is true, but it also makes him sound like he’s 8. “I’m not cute or likable. You have to be both if you focus on turns and stuff.”

“First of all, you don’t, but you’re cute, Keith. Like, you’re pretty and you move really gracefully and kind of like a cat,” “Lance says, voice filled with confidence as he shoots Keith an almost disbelieving look, one Keith doesn’t get because he owns a mirror. He doesn’t use it very often, but still. Then Lance’s expression softens, one hand brushing against Keith’s chest as he leans in. “And I like you. Hunk likes you, most people who know you do. And you know what, we’re gonna make everyone else like you too. Change of plans, you help me with focus and physical training, but me? From now on I’m your social media coach.”

Keith takes a deep breath and wonders if he should warn Lance he has his work cut out for him. Keith’s never even had a Facebook page.


	3. Skate Canada

Lance smiles nervously over at Keith as he sits across from at the rink, running one hand through his messy hair. Lance didn’t have time to brush it this morning since they got to the rink an hour earlier than usual, but that’s okay. He’s not the one who’s going to be on camera today. Keith is. Keith, whose long black hair is brushing against his shoulders, finally past being a mullet. Lance is almost a little sad when Keith pulls it back into a messy bun, though the smooth lines of his neck and the way his messy bangs frame the contours of his face make up for it. Lance smirks a little, earning an adorable pout from Keith who tilts his head a little and –

Lance isn’t here to flirt. He’s here to help his friend Keith develop a social media presence.

“Okay, so step one is you actually use your twitter and we make you an Instagram,” Lance explains with a grin, nodding to himself as he holds up Keith’s phone. Neither app is on there. Actually the only fun app Keith has at all is Pokémon Go. Lance reminds himself to add more games onto Keith’s phone later. For right now, he just downloads twitter and Instagram. He shows them both to Keith, who nods, lips pressing together in determination as he gaze narrows. “We’ll work our way up to YouTube and Snapchat.”

“Snapchat? Doesn’t all your stuff just disappear? What’s the point?” Keith asks as his frown grows smaller and more confused, crossing his arms defensively when Lance lets out a snort before he can stop himself. Okay, maybe he’s not being fair. But … Keith is 18 years old; he should probably know _why_ people want pictures that disappear right away. But Keith just makes that pouty expression he gets when he doesn’t understand something but knows he probably should. It’s kind of cute.

“Correction, we’ll work our way there slowly,” Lance says covering his mouth with one hand to try and hide the laugh, low and throaty, coming up from his chest. Keith sighs, shaking his head a little as he leans forward. “First we gotta introduce you to your fan base.”

Keith nods slightly, biting his lip as he looks into the luckily not recording camera, gaze heavy with anxiety and fingers twitching like he maybe wants to fight the phone. Lance wonders if maybe bit off more than he can chew here, but he puts the thought aside. Lance Ramirez doesn’t fall victim to clichés, and neither does Keith Kim. They’re better than that. Plus, if nothing else, Keith looks _real_ good today. That alone should make his fans happy. Keith frowns tightly, eyebrows going up slightly as he looks over at Lance. “Do I have one?”

“Yes, Keith, they’re the ones who throw flowers and stuff at you at the end of your skates,” Lance murmurs, biting back a groan because what was Keith even saying?

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Keith murmurs with a shrug, glancing up at Lance with a crooked smile. Lance notes that Keith is playing with the edge of his sweater sleeves, fingers tugging on frayed edges. Lance wonders how long Keith’s had it. Maybe he should take him shopping too. But then, Keith’s fan base probably liked his cozy, hand me down style. It was kind of cute how all of his clothes were either two big or cropped, with no in between. Keith bites his lip as he tugs a little harder on the faded sleeve, not quite meeting Lance’s gaze. “Why do they throw me cat ears?”

“You … act like a cat,” Lance throws out as he glances over at Keith, because it isn’t a lie. Keith is aloof and emotional, but deeply loyal and passionate about the things he cares about, and he fidgets a lot. But that’s not why his fans do it. Lance is. He grimaces a little as he tries to decide if he should tell Keith the actual reason, though he already knows the answer. “I may have made a joke about it at a press conference. And on my twitter.”

“Not the worst thing you’ve called me at a press conference,” Keith answers with a pointed grin, though there isn’t any offense in his gaze that Lance can see. Still, the air around them grows thicker, and Lance goes over the many times he’s put a foot in his mouth to figure out which time Keith is referring to.

Contrary to popular belief, Lance doesn’t actually bring Keith up that often. Not unless the press asked about Keith. The only other time he can think of had been when he was on the phone with Hunk and hadn’t turned his microphone off and he doesn’t remember saying anything that mean … except oh yeah, he called Keith an idiot. Yeah, not his best moment. Just one he thought was thankfully underreported. “You heard about that?”

“Of course I did, it’s fine, I know it was about the flip,” Keith answers with a soft smile, leaning toward Lance. Keith’s smile slowly morphs into a smirk, a twinkle coming into his eye as he glances up at Lance. “Which I landed by the way.”

Lance takes a deep breath, eyes widening as he stares over at Keith in surprise. Keith gives a small nod, smirk growing and a slight challenge in his gaze. Lance knows that look from when Keith challenged him to try quads in training camp. They both ended up bruised and him with a missing (luckily baby) tooth and no quads between them, though they’d had a lot of fun. But between Lance having never tried to flip in his life and Keith’s struggling with quads, let alone flips right now, Lance is pretty sure it’d end with a concussion. Or two. “… Don’t try and land it again.”

“Fine, so what are we doing here?” Keith mutters, crossing his arms against his chest and looking a little put out. Lance scoffs out loud this time, because someone has to be Keith’s impulse control now that Shiro’s not at the rink everyday. Not that Shiro stopped him the firs time he tried the flip. Lance leans back and holds up Keith’s phone and turns on the video, before making sure he has a good angle on Keith’s face, which is growing more nervous by the second.

“Okay, smile and look at the camera and introduce yourself,” Lance tells Keith with a bright grin as he presses play. Keith stares at the camera blankly, blinking owlishly as though he’s never been on film before. Lance guesses that he might not have been, except when he’s skating.

“Hi, I’m Keith Kim and I’m a U.S. figure skater,” Keith says after a beat, mumbling slightly on the second half of his sentence, gazing down slightly as he crosses his arms against his chest. He pauses after that, not saying anything as he keeps looking down, and then finally at Lance out of the corner of his eye, gaze narrowing anxiously. “What else should I say?”

“What you do?” Lance asks in the same warm, encouraging voice that Coran uses to prep him for competitions. Keith gives him a tight look for a moment, before biting his lip and turning his gaze back to the camera. Well, near the camera and that’s close enough for Lance right now.

“I’m Keith and I skate. Wait I said that already,” Keith starts and stops, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath the same way he does when Coran tells him he can’t train an extra hour or when he crashes on the ice. Lance gives him a wide smile, trying his best to be encouraging. “I said that already, see, this is why I’m bad at this. What else is there - I’m an orphan? I mean, I know I am. Maybe that’s why I have such a hard time connecting with people.”

“Keith?” Lance asks softly, eyebrows sloping down as Keith’s gaze dropped from the camera, this time with a hint of sadness as he uncrossed his arms slowly. Keith starts playing with one of the loose threads of his sleeves again, expression anywhere but the camera as he pulls on it anxiously. “What do you mean connecting with people?”

“Like, okay, so there’s this cheer at the rink. You say ‘Cor’ and I say ‘An’! I see you and Coran do, but I always go ‘Coran’ because why wouldn’t you? Then the cheer is done when I say ‘Coran’! That’s so much faster! Why would make things more complicated than they have to be?” Keith starts his rant off sounding more confused than anything else, eyebrows raised and voice shaking a little. Then his frown grows tighter, and he balls his hands up into tiny fists and shakes them in the air a little on ‘easier’. Under different circumstances, it might come off as aggressive, but the sheer confusion and frustration in Keith’s voice and the subject at hand makes it more adorable than anything else. Keith bangs his fists on his hips lightly when he gets to ‘complicated’, gaze tight and voice cracking a little on the word. Then Keith deflates, closing his eyes as his expression wilts. “I’m so sorry, I have a bit of a temper sometimes.”

“Right, okay, why do you think that is?” Lance asks with a small smile, giving Keith an encouraging nod as he looks down and starts rubbing all of his fingers across his thumb as he lifts one fist back up.

“Maybe because I’m afraid to trust people because my mom and dad left me, so I push people away before they can reject me?” Keith suggests, voice growing tighter on each word as he brings his hand closer to his face. Then he stops talking altogether, looking down and his eyes … his eyes start to water, tears slowly falling down his face. Keith is crying. Holy shit. Lance broke him. Keith’s voice is high and frustrated when he speaks. “I didn’t mean to cry again!”

“No, no it’s okay!” Lance assures him with a small smile, pulling a tissue out of his backpack and handing it to Keith so he can wipe his eyes. Luckily they didn’t get too red or puffy. He kind of wants to ask about the ‘again’ because like, does Keith cry a lot, but decides to wait for a better moment. “Here, tell me about something you love. Knives.”

“Why do you know that I like knives? I mean, they’re pretty cool, but I keep them on my shoes now most of the time,” Keith murmurs, smiling softly at his own joke, gaze growing softer as he stares at Lance. Then his gaze goes back to the ceiling, one hand tugging on his sleeve as Keith tries to think of something else to say. “I like hippos?”

Lance stares at Keith blankly, slowly raising his eyebrows as he takes in Keith’s words. That hadn’t really been what he expected, but Lance can work with it. Maybe. He at least wants an answer, because … “What?”

“Hippos. They’re really aggressive and strong, but they’re also cute and pretty nice if you just leave them alone,” Keith murmurs softly, voice becoming fonder as he talked about them, hands once again moving through the air like they did when he was talking about the cheer, except this times the movements are friendly and open, his expression shockingly adorable. “Was that bad?”

“It’s gonna be perfect,” Lance assures him with a small smile, leaning over and sliding a hand to his shoulder. Keith lets out a small gasp as he stares down at where Lance’s hand is, and Lance is about to pull it away when Keith leans forward. His expression is so unbearably sweet that Lance almost forgets to press stop on the phone.

A little later Coran arrives and they finally start their warm ups, Lance going through his a little faster. It’s his turn to do his free skate first, and Lance has to admit that he’s a little nervous. He’s been doing great in practice lately, the best he has in years. But they’re getting closer and closer to Skate Canada, which is his and Keith’s first real event of the season. They’ve both been keeping a low profile leading up to the grand prix period, which means they have less to show and way more to prove than any of the other skaters going.

Lance slides onto the ice, taking a deep breath as he goes into the routine and tries to keep his mind equally on the jumps and the narrative in his own mind. Lance has 5 quad jumps, 2 more than Keith and about five more than his last routine. But Lance still wants to tell a story, still wants to show the judges that he understands the performance and beauty of skating. When he glides into his turns, he is the merman darting through the water trying to find the prince or princess he met on land. Lance lands each jump, from the quadruple salchow to the triple axel followed by a triple toe loop. Lance lifts an arm for his just out of reach lover as he slides into his final pose. The fact his hand is outstretched towards Keith is just a coincidence.

“Lance, that was incredible,” Keith calls as he comes off the ice, gaze warm and a little awed. Lance can’t help the feeling of pride that rises in his chest as he stands up a little straighter, puffing up a little as he returns Keith’s smile with a bright grin of his own.

“Thanks Keith,” Lance says smoothly as he moves toward the other boy, nudging him with his hip a little as he turns his smile into a playful smirk. Keith’s music, Keith does best with a challenge, after all. “Now show me what you got.”

The music _The Path of The Wind_ (and Lance still can’t believe Keith requested music from _My Neighbor Totoro_ ) starts and Keith pushes onto the ice with a nervous sigh. Keith glides onto the ice, the nerves of the past few weeks seemingly erased as he glides easily through his first set of turns, body so swift and flexible Lance almost feels like he doesn’t have a spine. He lands his first quad with an ease Keith hasn’t had since Worlds, or at least not that Lance has seen, and the smile afterwards, warm and bright, makes his heart skip a beat. The rest of his routine goes much the same, all 8 jumps landed with the same grace and precision, turns becoming more and more fluid and impressive. There’s a story of the phoenix in here, of a bird rising from the ashes, but there’s another one, one Lance doesn’t know but wants too desperately.

“Wow, Keith, that was awesome,” Lance says when Keith gets off the ice, throwing an arm around his shoulder as Keith lets out a shaky breath. Coran claps behind them, smile warm and a twinkle in his eye, but he doesn’t come any closer. He’s been giving them space and Lance knowing looks all morning, and Lance has no idea what he’s on about, but it’s not like Keith really needs a run down of his skate. It’d been perfect to Lance’s eyes.

“Didn’t fall,” Keith agrees with a crooked smile as he looks up at Lance, sliding onto the bench next to him. Keith looks down, bangs falling across his face, but Lance can see his smile growing wider as he glances down at his shoes. Lance is due back on the ice soon, but he wants to savor the open, happy look on Keith’s face for as long as he can. He gets the sense he’s one of the rare few to have ever seen it.

“Makes sense since you don’t look like a zombie anymore,” Lance murmurs with a teasing smirk, drawing Keith’s gaze up. In the week since Keith’s stopped refusing to eat or sleep too little and train too much, he’s regained a lot of color and a certain warmth and softness, an aliveness that his routines have been lacking since Worlds. The passion Lance thought he might have lost there. It’s even more beautiful than Lance remembered. “No offense.”

Keith just lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head a little. His expression goes from sheepish but determined as he glances over at Lance, gaze narrowing as he holds out a hand in front of him. “Now let’s just both do them that well in Canada.”

“Deal,” Lance says with a small smile as he takes Keith’s hand, shaking it softly in the air. Keith holds on for a second, gazing down at their hands with a surprisingly intense look. Then Keith pulls away just as suddenly, leaving Lance flailing on the bench.

The rest of the week is the same, intense training but with very few falls, their routines coming to them as easily as the air. Coran lets them play a little, throwing out old routines from other skaters for them to try out. He even throws out a few of his own for Lance, including one infamously called the ‘Razzle Dazzle’ that Lance loves and Keith watches with a kind of slow-growing horror. And he and Keith keep hanging out and Lance helps him post photos of himself and Shiro and himself and the cat he visits at a shelter and of his garden. In turn, Keith in turn helps him focus and work on his conditioning and angrily defends him to a mean reporter once on Twitter (Lance appreciates it, but also makes him delete the tweet). And they keep having breakfast or lunch together every other day, until they’re expected together at the café. Friday is one of those days, Lance leaning back on his side of the booth as he picks at his sandwich.

“Hey, Lancers, It’s your boy Lance here, at the Seaside Café. And look who’s with me, none other than my new rink mate and friend, Keith Kim,” Lance says as he opens up Instagram. Lance gives the camera a dazzling smile and his signature finger guns, before turning the camera to Keith. Keith stiffens up immediately, crossing his arms as his eyes widen a little. Lance grins at him and Keith slowly loosens up, uncrossing his arms so he can give a small wave with a crooked smile. “Anything you’d like to say to our fans, Keith?”

“Watch Skate Canada? We’ll be … there,” Keith mumbles as he stares into the camera, wincing a little as his eyebrows slope down. Keith’s gaze is soft and open though, smile small but genuine as he waves at the camera again. Lance clicks the live video off with a small nod, and Keith slumps back in the booth, but the smile doesn’t go away.

“Not your worst,” Lance says encouragingly, knowing that the video is actually going to get lots of hits. Keith’s brand of awkwardness was adorable, and his hero worship of Shiro is kind of sweet now that he’s not his coach anymore and Keith isn’t angrily defending him every five minutes. “Hey, you look happy.”

“Is that that rare?” Keith asks with a small smirk, and there’s an awareness in his gaze as he glances down at his empty plate. There’s a reason he was called the emo kid in Juniors. Keith glances up with a small grimace, his gaze anxious but also still filled with the same warmth he had on the rink when he finished his routine. “I like it. That we’re friends. You’re my first one besides Shiro, you and Hunk.”

“I’m glad too. You’re pretty great once you let a few of those walls down,” Lance tells him with a wide smile as he finishes off the last of his fries. Keith raises an eyebrow, and Lance can almost see all of the … less than flattering things he’s said about Keith over the years flashing across Keith’s eyes. All of them had been more and less true, Keith is impulsive and hotheaded, but Lance regrets how he said them now, regrets not seeing the other sides of Keith earlier. But that’s okay. He’s seeing them now, just like Keith is seeing the other sides of him he might have missed.

“Thanks, you’re pretty cool too,” Keith murmurs after a minute, grinning a little as he picks up the menu and starts pushing it back and forth between his fingers. Lance looks over in surprise he quickly tries to hide, because he never imagined a day when Keith Kim called him cool or regularly complimented his skates, or well, talked to him at all, honestly. And he never imagined Keith giving him these soft smiles.

“Want to share a dessert before we go? Ice cream, if you like cool things?” Lance says, wriggling his eyebrows and dropping his voice an octave before he can stop himself. He’s getting ready to make a joke or try and make that sound less like a come on, when something strange happens. Keith’s face heats up; blush small but visible as he nods, gazing up at Lance through his eyelashes before looking down at the table to fidget with his fork. Lance … Lance is pretty sure they’re flirting. A brave new world indeed.

* * *

Keith lies on his bed, resisting the urge to go for a run or doing weights, or even using the punching bag in the corner of his room. That’s what Keith normally does when he’s stressed, but he promised Coran that he wouldn’t train without someone else there. But … stretching probably doesn’t count, and Keith needs to maintain his flexibility. Keith stretches his leg on the floor on the mat, methodically going through every yoga poses he knows. Keith wants to get out of his head, to get away from the warm smile and twinkling blue eyes haunting his thoughts, at least for a little bit. Keith knows nothing’s going to happen between him and Lance. Keith doesn’t … people don’t want him. Not long-term. Keith shouldn’t risk their friendship because he has a stupid crush.

But Lance had asked him to share ice cream with him, asked him if he liked cool things while wriggling his eyebrows. That’s flirting right? Keith doesn’t know a lot about stuff like that, but he’s pretty sure it is. And if Lance flirted with him, maybe his crush isn’t entirely one-sided. But … what if Keith’s wrong? What if Lance and Hunk shared ice cream sundaes together all the time? What if Keith’s just panicking over nothing, and all the progress he’s made in actually having a friend just goes away? Keith needs advice from someone smarter than him, someone who’s been here or at least had a social life at some point. Shiro. Shiro is friends with Matt and Ulaz and he’s dated before.

Keith makes his way to Shiro’s room and holds his fist in front of the door, hesitating a little as he stares at the slightly chipped white paint. Keith doesn’t ask Shiro for advice about this kind of stuff. He usually asks him about skating and exercise and his future. Shiro’s the one who usually brought up personal stuff and even then the conversation usually goes back to skating. But … Shiro isn’t his coach anymore. Keith takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, which swings open to reveal Shiro’s warm smile and slightly tired eyes. “Hey Shiro, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Keith,” Shiro says as he takes a step back into the room, sitting on the edge of his bed. Keith follows him inside the room, sliding onto the bed next to Shiro. He crosses his arms and glances down at the floor, biting his lip a little. Keith hopes Shiro can sense what he wants to ask somehow, or at least catches on that it’s serious. “Is it about your routine? I watched the tapes you gave me, and I can give you tips if you want, but I think honestly think –“

“No, it’s not about the routine. It’s about Lance,” Keith cuts him off, shaking his head a little as he glances up at Shiro and then back at the floor. So much for mind reading. Shiro raises an eyebrow; leaning toward Keith with a small smile and furrowed brow, gaze warm with curiosity.

“Lance? I thought you two were getting along,” Shiro asks with a small frown, running one hand through his black hair. His expression is becoming a little more worried, gaze tight as he lets out a low groan. Keith glances up at him, counting the ever-increasing white hairs in the front of Shiro’s undercut. Keith realizes after a minute that Shiro thinks he means he and Lance are fighting. Honestly, that’s what Keith would’ve expected too. It’s been a weird six weeks.

“We are. That’s the problem,” Keith says with a small sigh as he runs a hand over his face, forming the other one into a small fist. He rubs his fingers over his thumb softly, trying to gain some sense of grounding from it. So far it’s not working. Keith finally glances back at Shiro with a little frown. “I mean. I kind of like him?”

“Most people like their friends, Keith,” Shiro tells him with a small laugh, gaze teasing as he glances down at Keith. Keith bites his lip, because that strange sense that something about their relationship has changed hits Keith again. He just can’t figure out how and he’s afraid to ask Shiro. Keith doesn’t want to be rejected by another person, especially since he doesn’t really have anywhere to go anymore. Keith’s aged out and Lance has like four siblings and Hunk lives in a dorm, so he can’t stay with either of them. Suddenly Shiro’s eyes light up with understanding, grinning softly as he pats Keith on the shoulder. “You mean you still have a crush on him.”

“Yeah, but I can’t figure out if he likes me back or not,” Keith admits with a low groan, crossing his arms again as he glances down at the floor. Shiro follows his gaze until Keith is forced to meet his eyes again, so Shiro can see just how anxious he is. Shiro’s smile softens a little bit as he takes in Keith’s expression. “I mean. You wouldn’t think he would, he’s Lance and I’m Keith.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shiro asks with a small frown, cocking his head at Keith as though he doesn’t understand what he means. Keith lets out a small snort, because he doesn’t need Shiro’s acting. They both know Keith’s not easy to like, too cold and selfish and terrible at long-term thinking or well, anything except skating. And lately he’s not even good at that anymore. He’s surprised that Shiro’s put up with him this long, let alone someone like Lance who doesn’t even have (well, had) a reason to.

“Just you know. Lance is … tall. And really handsome. I’m short and look like a potato,” Keith says with a shrug, because it’s easier to focus on that part of the many reasons why he’s not good enough for Lance. At least that one won’t make Shiro second guess keeping him around too. Shiro gives him a tight look, expression blank as he mulls over Keith’s words. Lance is waiting for understanding to dawn in Shiro’s face.

“Potatoes aren’t pointy,” Shiro says as he points at Keith’s cheekbones and then down at his chin. Keith’s face is kind of heart-shaped, but so are some potatoes so he doesn’t really know what Shiro’s getting at anyway. Shiro winces a little, eyebrows scrunching together like he’s pained by what he’s saying next. None of this is making Keith any less confused. “But you don’t look like one anyway. You’re … you look fine.”

“So you think there’s a chance he was – he shared a dessert with me,” Keith begins and then cuts to the fact, because good enough for Lance or not, that’s not the issue. The issue is if somehow, through some weird twist of fate, Lance likes him anyway. If he does, then maybe … maybe it would be okay for Keith to ask him out. Or at least do something with him. “Because it was cool like him. Do you think he might like me back?”

“I feel more confident about it now,” Shiro answers back with a fond smile, leaning over to ruffle his hair gently. Keith’s eyes widen, mouth forming into a small ‘o’. “But you’re going to have to ask Lance.”

“Right,” Keith mumbles softly as he glances down at the edge of his T-shirt, because he really wishes Shiro would just tell him what he should do. Normally Keith just goes by instincts, but he doesn’t have any here and that’s one of the thing Lance doesn’t like about him anyway. Keith needs a plan and he’s terrible at plans. He gives Shiro a small, awkward smile. “Sorry, if this was weird or – you know.”

Shiro just gives him a small smile, ruffling Keith’s hair again as he stands up from the bed. “Hey, what are brothers for?”

Keith stares after him as Shiro leaves the room to head down the hallway, Shiro’s words ringing through his head. _Brothers_. Shiro thinks of them as brothers? It’s – Keith’s felt like that for years, but he never thought Shiro would return it. After all, Shiro’s saved changed his life. He’s the reason that Keith has a home and a career and didn’t go down some bad path. He’s the first person who ever believed in Keith and not just his talent. Keith just never thought he gave Shiro anything back except medals, and without that well. He doesn’t understand why Shiro wants him as a little brother or how long it’ll last, but Keith can’t help the wide smile that comes over his face and stays on his face the entire way to the rink.

So much so that Keith forgets about his Lance problem until he gets to the rink. Then he sees Lance doing a run through of his routine and it comes back in full force. Lance is beautiful on the ice, maybe even more than he is just normally, lean body flying through the air like he was born for it, the sky blue of his sweatshirt bright against the ice as he flies through the air. Keith wishes he hadn’t just worn a black T-shirt. The ice gives way to Lance like he’s a force of nature, but not a destructive one. No, Lance is fluid and relaxed, like the water he’s pretending to swim through right now.

Lance does a turn, twisting his hand toward Keith with a flourish and a bright smile. Lance slips on the last turn though, arms thrown backwards as he slips toward the ice in what feels like slow motion. Keith winces a little, biting his lip as Lance makes his way off the ice and toward where Keith is leaning over the edge of the rink, hair falling across his shoulders. He lost his hair tie.

“And that was me acting out the part where Eric falls out of the boat,” Lance tells Keith with a playful grin as he comes up on the other side of the rink. Keith used to think Lance made those kinds of flippant remarks because he didn’t care about skating. Keith gets it out now though. Lance does it because he cares and lightening the mood lets Lance feel better and feel like he’s making everyone else feel better too. But Lance should know he doesn’t need to cover up his insecurities. Not with Keith. “See how I fully extended my arms just like he did in _The Little Mermaid_?”

“Very impressive,” Keith answers with a small smile as he pushes a strand of hair behind his ear, nervously twiddling with the edge of his hair and then his sleeve. Lance raises an eyebrow, frowning thoughtfully as he gives a once over. Then he opens his mouth, and Keith’s not good with faces, but he knows what that look on Lance’s face means after seeing it directed at him so many times. “I have seen _The Little Mermaid_.”

“Oh thank god,” Lance answers with a chuckle, gaze growing softer as he leans over to brush a hand against Keith’s own, though he pulls it away before Keith can figure out if it was an accident or not. He wonders if that’s the kind of thing you can just ask. Probably not.

“Mind if I join you for warming up?” Keith asks as he takes a deep breath, and glances over at Lance with a small, wistful look as Lance starts skating around in slow circles. If he can’t have Lance, he at least wants this with Lance, the soft smiles and the ice that lets both of them fly. Keith thinks that could be enough, maybe, if Lance doesn’t like him back. Keith ignores the way his heart twists in his chest at the last thought. He’s being selfish again. Lance frowns at something in his expression, eyebrows scrunching together as he nods. Keith comes onto the ice, trying to throw himself into the motions and ignore the heavy weight in the air between them.

“That was a lovely spin there, Keith,” Lance calls out to him as he skates up to his side, arms behind his backs on foot. Keith glances up from where he’s finishing his sit spin, smirking a little as he pulls himself up to stand in front of Lance. Lance grins at him, cocking his head a little as he gently grabs Keith’s right hand. “Hey, have you ever seen the old videos of Zarkon and Haggar?”

“They were thrown out for cheating,” Keith reminds him with a small frown, cocking his head a little as he stares over at Lance. He’s not sure why Lance is bringing up skaters from like, the 1980s, especially not ones that almost ruined Coran’s career. Was that what Lance meant? Were they going to try and get revenge on them? They don’t really have time for that. Plus, Keith’s not even sure Zarkon’s still alive.

“Doesn’t mean their routine at the 1988 Olympics wasn’t good,” Lance says with a small smirk, wriggling his eyebrows together as he grabs Keith’s hand again. Lance pulls Keith closer to him, and suddenly Keith catches on. Lance wants to do their routine. Together. Keith’s eyes widen as he stares over at Lance, who gives him a nervous smile of his own as he links their arms together. “So do you know it or not?”

“I know it if you do,” Keith answers back with a smirk of his own, gaze growing determined as he suddenly turns on his heel. Keith glances back at Lance with the same determined look he used to give the ice before every match. It’s more fun when there’s another person.

“Oh, you can bet on it, Keith,” Lance answers back with a grin as he circles Keith, gaze a challenge and a question at the same time. Keith smirks back, easily sliding into Haggar’s position (he’s shorter so it makes sense, not that they’ll probably end up doing any of the lifts) as they start the step sequence. It’s shaky at first, both of them just a little bit out of synch. Keith almost feels clumsy, which he never feels, not even at Worlds. But then something clicks into place, their moves slowly starting to match as they inch closer and closer together.

If this were a movie and not real life, this would be the part where Keith made his move. Instead he and Lance circle each other, throwing their arms out in perfect unison as they move across the ice. Keith grins as they turn at the same time, bodies twisting in unison. Usually they’re opposites, Lance the water and Keith the oil, but right now they’re the same.

Lance suddenly skates away from him, a smirk on his face and gaze twinkling as he gestures at Keith and nods, holding his arms out. They’re doing this. Keith nods, expression just as determined as he glides toward Lance, keeping his momentum up as he glides toward him. He feels the moment Lance’s hands grab his hips and then he’s up in the air, holding his form as he twists between Lance’s arms so that when he puts him down they’re face to face, only a few inches between them. Keith can feel Lance’s breath on his face, warm and gentle, and wow. “Holy shit, did you just lift me?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty skinny,” Lance points out with a shrug, giving Keith a once over and smirking a little as he takes in Keith’s scrawny legs and hips. Keith flushes a little, biting his lip and quickly looking so Lance can’t see the flash of worry in his gaze. Keith knows there isn’t a lot to him, especially since he hasn’t gained back all the weight he lost between Worlds and Coran, but he has no idea if that’s a turn off for Lance or not.

“You’re built like a popsicle stick,” Keith mutters instead, crossing his arms tightly against his chest as he raises an eyebrow at Lance. Keith gives him a once over of his own, trying to keep his expression as neutral as Lance’s had been before. He doesn’t think he succeeds given the brief flash of surprise that comes over Lance’s face.

Then Lance grins, slow and lazy as he skates around Keith until he ends up back in front of him, one hand brushing against the edge of Keith’s black leggings. Is this flirting? Keith can’t tell. Then Lance leans in his, eyes sparkling as he licks his lips a little. “But a sexy popsicle stick?”

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a lick,” Keith says without thinking, lipping his lip and – fuck. Fuck. Lance is staring at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open a little and yeah, Keith can’t really blame him. This is why he needs to stop following his instincts; all they do is ruin everything. Keith takes a deep breath and grimaces over at Lance, gaze dropping to the ice so Lance can’t see the humiliation in his gaze. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. I am so sorry. Sometimes I don’t think things through – that’s why I don’t talk a lot.”

“No, it’s okay, Keith,” Lance says, slowly grabbing Keith’s right shoulder with one hand, the other coming under his chin and gently tilting Keith’s head up so they were eye to eye again. Lance gives him a little smile, gaze surprisingly tender and there’s a spark there that Keith has never seen before, not directed at him.

“Are you … are you sure?” Keith asks in a soft voice as he leans forward, eyes widening at the way Lance covers Keith’s hands with his own, grinning a little as he wraps his hands around Keith’s own and squeezes. Not even Keith’s socially inept to miss that Lance is flirting with him this time. “Because it’s okay if it’s not okay. I know that could have like, anyone in the world.”

Lance narrows his eyes as he pulls his hands back a little, though he doesn’t quite let go of Keith’s, gaze growing worried as he frowns at Keith’s words in confusion, not too far from the expression that Shiro made this morning. “What are you talking about?”

“Just you’re, you – look,” Keith sighs as he lunges forward, grabbing the drawstrings of Lance’s hoodie. Lance’s eyebrows shoot up, lips pressing into a straight line as he stares over at Keith. Keith takes a deep breath and decides to just go with his instincts. They’ve gotten him this far. He presses his lips against Lance’s messy and a little awkward, about to pull back when he feels Lance move back (with a lot more finesse than Keith has admittedly).

Keith pulls back and blinks owlishly at Lance, biting his lip before realizing what he just did. Keith turns on his heel and tries to speed down the rink, but he ends up stumbling into the wall of the rink. So much for being one of the most agile skaters on the ice. Lance catches up to him; skating next to him as he gives Keith a confused look, gaze a little hurt as he comes to his side. “Hey, are you trying to run away?”

“The skates made it harder than I expected,” Keith admits with a slight wince as he glances up at the ceiling, voice rising against his will on the word ‘harder’. He finally looks back at Lance, whose expression is tight and incredulous.

“Kind of noticed that,” Lance says slowly, pressing one hand over where Keith’s is on the wall, holding Keith there as though he’s afraid Keith might try to take off again. Keith can’t say he didn’t think about it. Lance gives him a nervous smile; gaze anxious as he leans over a little so they’re eye to eye. Keith holds it, knowing that his own nerves must show in his face. “Relieved about it, if I’m honest. I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of kissed you back.”

“Oh I thought you did, but I didn’t know if that was just instinct,” Keith explains with a small shrug, trying to give Lance an out in case he was just flirting for fun or out of pity or -

“It wasn’t,” Lance corrects him with a slow smile, the hurt, nervous expression slowly fading into a more confident smile, that sparkle from before coming back into his gaze. He leans forward and Keith does too, they’re hands brushing together before Keith grabs Lance’s more firmly. Lance grins, wide and a little goofy, and Keith has the feeling that his own matches it as he looks up at Lance with wide eyes.

“So do you maybe wanna go out?” Keith asks and then looks down at his skates, biting his lip because what if that was too forward. Lance lets go of his right hand but not his left, slowly tilting his head up again. This time Lance lets his hand rest there, long fingers spreading out across Keith’s jaw and up to his cheek.

“I wouldn’t mind giving it a go, as long as you don’t,” Lance says with an easy smile, squeezing Keith’s hand as he presses their foreheads together. Keith takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a beat and then opening them again slowly, half expecting Lance to be gone. But he’s still there, warm and real and smiling tenderly over at Keith. “Keith, I know this is kind of weird since you already kissed me, but can I kiss you? I’m getting the sense this is maybe a little new for you.”

“Yeah, that was my first kiss,” Keith admits as he glares anxiously up at Lance. Lance’s eyebrows scrunch together, lips pursing, as though he’s surprised by this information. Surely Lance can’t be that blinded by his feelings for Keith. But yeah, 18 is kind of … late for never having kissed anyone. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, no, it’s cute. You’re cute. I’m glad I was your first kiss,” Lance says quickly as he squeezes Keith’s hand and tilts his head up a little more, softly pressing his lips against Keith’s own, warm and a little chapped. This kiss is perfect.

* * *

They have the next day off from practice, so Lance sends Keith memes and cute pictures of himself all day. Keith responds with blurry ones and strange emojis, and Lance laughs a little as he imagines Keith looking up the meaning of emojis. Keith tries harder than anyone he knows, and Lance admires how hard he’ll work and how much resolve he’ll put into any goal, rather it be his skating or his hobbies or how to text like a regular teenager. It’s sweet. But still, Lance is a little bummed they’re not seeing each other again right away. They just started dating, the one day lull kind of makes their ice kisses feel a little anti-climatic. Plus, what if Keith changes his mind?         

Lance knows he’s good-looking, but sometimes he can be abrasive or a little too flippant or petty, or just … not good enough. Not talented enough or smart enough or interesting enough for other people. Lance tries hard to be likable, and he is popular online, but … Keith is dedicated and passionate and hardworking with strong ideals, instinctive and quick-thinking in a way Lance wishes he could be. Keith doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, has been going on it on his own since he was 8. Keith’s stronger and more independent than anyone Lance has ever met before, and then it turned out he’s adorable on top of it, and somehow he acted like Lance was going to reject _him_. It just doesn’t add up.

But when Lance arrives at the street corner where Keith is waiting for him, Keith’s face lights up, smile warm and soft as he holds a hand out toward Lance. Lance stares at it for a moment, not sure why Keith’s holding it out for a second. Keith starts to pull his hand back when understanding hits Lance and he grabs Keith’s hand and squeezes it softly. Keith smiles back at Lance, warm and gentle, and he doesn’t let go the entire walk to the café. Lance orders coffee for both of them, and Keith rolls his eyes but lets him. Keith frowns a little when he takes a sip of his coffee, eyebrows rising after the first sip. “Lance, what’d you put in my coffee?”

“Sugar and syrup and all the delicious things you’re allowed to have now,” Lance says with a grin, wriggling his eyebrows as Keith takes another tentative sip. Keith’s eyes light up a little at the flavor, and Lance grins at his expression. Maybe he’s not such a useless boyfriend after all. “Things I insist you have since I’m you’re _boyfriend_ now.”

“That mean you get to choose what I eat?” Keith asks with small smirk, gaze teasing, though Lance sees a flash of something warm and longing at the word ‘boyfriend’ that makes him blink. There are a lot of things he doesn’t know about Keith yet (and a lot of things Keith doesn’t know about Lance, to be fair), but Lance pushes the thought aside and leans in to brush a hand against Lance’s own. They have plenty of time to learn everything about each other.

“Probably,” Lance tells Keith with a playful grin as he takes another sip of his coffee. His own has half as much sugar and syrup as Keith’s does, but he’s figured out Keith has a bit of a sweet tooth. Keith had brought over the pumpkins he grows in his yard the last time Lance and Hunk had invited him to a group hangout, and Hunk had made some truly amazing pumpkin bread that Keith ate like half of.

Keith smiles at him, sweet but with something anxious in his gaze. Keith looks down at how his coffee, stirring his drink a little faster as he bites his lip. Lance feels his stomach drop and then plummet all the way to the soles of his shoes on Keith’s next words. “Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Okay, not what you want to hear three days into dating someone, Keith,” Lance snaps, voice coming out a little more tightly than he anticipated. He looks away, eyebrows sloping down as his annoyance and hurt war with each other. Lance looks back, a thousands comments on the tip of his tongue, but they all die when he sees the stricken look on Keith’s face. Keith shakes his head furiously, bangs spreading across his forehead as he reaches out a hand and lays it over Lance’s hesitantly.

“No, no, I don’t mean us, I mean _when_ we got together,” Keith says in a tight voice, wincing a little as he gives Lance a sheepish look. Lance isn’t sure where this is going, but Keith is a terrible liar, so if Keith says that he doesn’t mean they were the bad idea, Lance is gonna believe him. Lance gives him a weak smile, and Keith’s eyes lighten up a little, gently squeezing Lance’s hand before he finally finishes his thought. “I feel like most people would’ve waited until after Skate Canada to make a move, especially since we’re competing there.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t have, but you’re not most people, babe,” Lance answers back, a slow smirk coming over his face as he takes in Keith’s expression. Keith flushes a little, ears tinged red as he stares back at Lance. Lance squeezes Keith’s hand, fingers brushing against the soft skin of Keith’s wrist. “That’s part of what I like about you.”

The brief tension in the air passes as Lance starts telling Keith about his niece Emma’s recital, Keith nodding along and squeezing his hand every so often. Lance does his best to explain each reference, grinning softly each time Keith concentrates on a name or a song he mentions, brow furrowed and tongue sticking out a little bit. Their second date ends up going pretty well, if they wanted to call it that.

Being rink mates means they spend part of every day together, even if they’re not _really_ dates, since they spend most of their time apart doing routines or in ballet class or conditioning. But they hold hands all the way there and back, and one time they make out in the locker room for almost fifteen minutes one time. It’s nice, but it’s even nicer when they go to the garden near the rink for an actual date the next Saturday. Or it would be if Keith didn’t keep playing with the edges of his sleeves or crossing his arms, looking away and up at the trees every few minutes.

“You look anxious,” Lance finally mutters after the third time Keith glances over at the fountain like someone’s going to jump out of it and attack him. Lance is starting to feel nervous even though he can see no one’s there.

“You can tell? Most people just think I’m mad,” Keith admits, some of the worry going out of his face as he glances over at Lance. Lance smiles a little sheepishly, because he was one of those people a few months ago, but now he’s learning to read Keith’s expressions and little hand motions. Lance glances over at Keith’s face, his eyebrows sloping down and gaze growing fond as Keith makes his classic confused face, all wide-eyed and a little vulnerable. Lance snaps a photo before Keith can change expressions, doing his best to get the burst of red and orange behind Keith’s head. “What are you doing?”

“You’re next insta, cute and confused in the garden,” Lance explains with a grin as he starts to upload the photo. He’s pretty proud of the progress he and Keith have made with his social media. Keith’s got a decent twitter and Instagram following now, his fans expressing their delight that Keith has finally stopped with the radio silence. Lance edited the video he shot of Keith at the rink (editing out the part where he cried over his parents) and it had gone viral in the skating community, how adorable Keith is the talk of the skating fandom for days. Lance can’t wait to see all the stuffed hippos people throw at Keith at Skate Canada. He just hopes none of them bring knives.

Keith though frowns a little at the photo, pulling at the edge of his red and gold scarf the same way he is in the photo, though his gaze is a lot tighter now. Lance frowns over at him, eyebrows scrunching together on Keith’s next words. “Don’t you think … don’t you think I’m kind of old for that?”

“What?” Lance asks after a beat, frowning tightly as he waits for Keith to explain himself. Keith just crosses his arms a little tighter, looking more like he’s hugging himself than that he’s being cool or aloof. Lance is … not sure what Keith means. The only thing Keith is too old for is Juniors, and actually he could’ve stayed there for an extra year too.

“Well, I’m almost 19 and you keep making me out like I’m cute or naïve or whatever, isn’t that going to seem kind of pathetic?” Keith finally mumbles as he looks up at Lance, eyes wide and anxious. Lance stares back at him, trying to think of all the ways to comfort Keith and trying to fight back the laugh tickling the back of his throat, but he doesn’t quite manage. Keith’s eyes somehow grow _even_ wider as he stares at Lance, before they slide into his an annoyed glare, Keith pouting slightly as his arms ease back into his more typical crossed arms.

“… How old do you think 18 or 19 is?” Lance finally asks in a slightly raspy voice when his giggles fade, trying to keep his voice supportive even as he shakes his head a little. Keith looks up at the leaves of the tree above them, fidgeting slightly as he bites his lip. Lance playfully pokes Keith in the chest, raising an eyebrow as he leans in toward his boyfriend. “Careful, I’m also 18, remember.”

“No, I just – I’m not cute,” Keith mutters under his breath, gaze growing distant as he pouts. Somehow Lance thinks cute means more than just Keith’s face in this context. Lance bites his lip, because he doesn’t know how to comfort Keith, how to fix whatever this is. A small, terrible part of him is just relieved that Keith maybe isn’t quite as independent and uncaring as Lance thought. It makes his boyfriend feel a little more human, a little more reachable, than he was a few days ago. Then Keith looks over at him, gaze soft as he squeezes Lance’s hand softly. “Not like you.”

“Okay, how long is this gonna be a thing? You’re adorable, okay?” Lance mutters, a hint of exasperation bleeding into his voice. Lance knows he shouldn’t be annoyed, but the thing is Keith _is_ cute. Lance has good taste. If Lance is _maybe_ more traditionally handsome, but Keith is all big eyes and long eyelashes and thin bow shaped lips, small and compact with a perfect mix of contours and curves. Lance has no idea how to get that across to him without sounding like a Grade A creep though.

Keith blinks owlishly at his tone and then for a brief second looks _terrified_ and then Keith glares a little, harsh in a way that reminds Lance of Keith before he got to know him. Lance swallows, worried he somehow managed to screw things up when he notices Keith is glaring down at his fingerless glove clad fingers and not at Lance. Oh. Keith isn’t annoyed with him. He’s annoyed with _himself_. A few beats pass before Keith glances back at him, glare replaced with something more vulnerable yet also determined. “Can I take a photo of us?”

“Of course,” Lance says softly, giving Keith an awkward smile that Keith returns with a crooked one of his own after a minute, relief in his gaze. It hits Lance that they might both think they’re the ones screwing up here. That’s almost a relief. Keith holds the camera out as far as he can, just managing to get them and part of the tree in the same shot. Suddenly Keith leans in and kisses Lance on the cheek at the same time he snaps the photo. Lance grabs his hand and laces their fingertips together. “Keith, that was … so cute I don’t even know how you think you’re scary. Or how I thought you were. Can I … would you be comfortable with me putting it on my insta story?”

“I don’t know what that is, but if it’s online, yeah,” Keith answers with a small grin, any of the anxiety or fear from before gone at Lance’s words. He leans in, brushing his lips against Lance’s softly, and Lance grins into the kiss as Keith presses closer to him. “I don’t mind people knowing if you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Lance assures him with a warm grin, and then he presses his lips back against Keith’s, who kisses back eagerly, one hand coming up to cup Lance’s jaw softly. For once, Lance is glad that Keith’s a quick learner. When they break the kiss, Keith leans against him, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder. Lance’s eyes widen and then he smiles, wrapping his arm around Keith’s shoulder as he starts talking about the non-skating parts of his week while Keith cuddles against him and gives him his undivided attention in a way that makes Lance feel a little bit like he’s the sun. he could get used to this.

The day before they’re set to leave for Canada, they one last run through of their routines at their home rink, Coran’s watchful eye on both of them throughout their routines. They’re not quite as perfect as they were two weeks ago, Keith wobbling after one quad and Lance forgetting a few of his artful moves between jumps, but they’re close. Lance tries to concentrate on that instead of the mistakes he made, of what the judges or his fans might say if he doesn’t live up to his expectations for him, if he’s not as likable.

He doesn’t _really_ pull it off.

“I was wobbly on the last quad,” Keith notes with a small frown, his voice pulling Lance from his downward spiral before it can go any further. Keith doesn’t look upset, more analytical than anything else. Coran nods and writes something down on his notepad, though he suddenly leans over and ruffles first Keith’s hair and then Lance’s, smile warm and proud as he glances between them.

“But you didn’t fall and your turns were gorgeous,” Coran declares proudly, hands on his hips as smiles over at Keith, nodding as he seems to consider their progress together. Keith smiles back, looking down quickly. Lance wonders if he’s hiding the fact that he’s tearing up. Then Coran’s warm gaze is on him, soft and proud, and Lance feels tears start to build in the back of his own eyes. They’ve come along way together to get to this point. Then the moment passes as Coran turns away back to his bench, suddenly shoving mugs in both their hands. “And Lance, your jumps were exquisite and you’ve retained all of your dazzle. Truly, my boys, I couldn’t be prouder. Which is why I got you these!”

“We should have this again in Canada, maybe in our room,” Lance murmurs as he glances at Keith over his hot chocolate. Keith flushes a little as he takes a sip of his own, though he’s smirking when he pulls the mug away from his face, gaze heated and knowing.

“We should, Lance! And Keith and Shiro can have it in theirs,” Coran calls as he glances between, smiling brightly even though his gaze is pure steel. Lance knows that look and it honestly terrifies him.

“Right,” Lance and Keith say in unison, any plan to argue that they’re adults and can share with whomever they want gone in a flash. Lance knows it’s probably better this way. Sharing a hotel room after two weeks of dating is a bad idea in general, let alone when they were competing against each other. Competing for the first time since they became friends, let alone since they started dating. Lance shakes the thought off as much as he can, because there’s nothing they can do to change that and they were always going to have to cross this bridge eventually. Might as well get it over with early before they get too attached.

(Lance is already pretty attached).

* * *

They arrive in Regina the next day after a five-hour flight, and Keith’s jealous of the fact that Lance slips through almost all of it, face soft and relaxed as his head falls across Keith’s shoulder. Keith smiles softly at him at first, occasionally brushing his hair off of his forehead. Then two hours pass and Lance starts to get kind of heavy. Keith manages to gently shove him off his shoulder without waking Lance up, sliding a pillow under his chin instead. Keith spends most of it playing Pokémon, smiling widely and fist bumping when he receives his Type: Null just in time to begin their landing. Lance wakes up, smile bright and sunny, for their ride to the hotel while Keith.

Shiro and Coran share a small, conspiratorial smile when they arrive, handing Lance a room key and telling Keith and Lance to enjoy themselves why they go to the bar. It’ll still be another year before Lance and Keith can drink here. Keith pouts a little, letting out a small sigh because Shiro and Coran are both being ridiculous. But then he sees Lance’s warm smile and the way he wriggles his eyebrows as he glances at the elevators and suddenly Keith doesn’t care about trying his first cocktail. Shiro shoots Lance a tight glare, lips pressed into a thin line and Keith snorts softly as the color drains out of his face. Shiro would never do anything, which makes it twice as funny when Lance lets out a small whine of fear when Keith smirks and takes his hand, dragging him toward the elevator.

When they get to the room, Keith smirks and slowly pushes Lance back until his legs hit the bed, kisses growing wilder and more confident as his hands slide down Lance’s chest. He stops when Lance suddenly slides down onto the bed, gaze hooded as he looks up at Keith and licks his lips like Keith’s a prize he’s won. Keith freezes for a moment, cheeks slowly heating up until even his ears are tinged red. Lance lets out a small laugh and Keith surges forward, determined to take this head on just like he takes everything else. Keith ends up straddling Lance, the other boy sitting up to wrap his lean yet deceptively strong arms around Keith’s back.

“It’s been over two weeks,” Keith murmurs softly as he buries his face in Lance’s shoulder, trying to hide his deepening blush as Lance strokes his back softly. Keith’s not as ready for this as he’d like after all, but Lance is here and holding him, and that’s just as good for Keith.

Lance seems to agree by the way he leans back a little, one hand coming up to gently tilt Keith’s head back so he can stare at his face. Keith smiles softly, gaze growing fond as he spots the last of Lance’s fading freckles. He wonders idly if they come back every summer or not. Then Lance’s eyebrows scrunch together and he lets out a small, confused laugh. “What?”

“Since we started dating,” Keith says in explanation as he glances up at Lance shyly, smile growing wider when that spark comes into Lance’s eye just like when they first kissed. Keith’s gaze grows a little wistful as he leans in closer, stealing a quick kiss before letting out a small sigh. “Nothing’s gone wrong yet.”

“I wasn’t expecting it too,” Lance answers back with a small scoff, shaking his head a little as he leans over to play with a loose strand of Keith’s hair. Keith’s eyes widen a bit as he stares up at Lance. Lance’s gaze narrows a little, mouth forming into a small pout as he gives a look that Keith feels like borders on suspicious. “Were you?”

“I mean, a little?” Keith admits with a small shrug, biting his lip a little as he waits for Lance to respond. Lance’s gaze just grows anxious, glancing away toward the all as his eyebrows slope down. It reminds Keith of when Lance lost at Worlds Juniors two years ago. Maybe, maybe Keith isn’t the only one who’s a little insecure about their relationship, even if Keith’s not sure what Lance has to worry about with him. “Not because of you! But outside of Shiro and Hinata, no one’s really kept me around that long. To be honest, I kind of thought they’d kick me out too.”

“Oh,” Lance murmurs softly as he stares down at Keith, expression growing tight as he worries at his lip. He pulls the hand on Keith’s cheek away for a moment to run it across his face. Keith looks down, wondering if he should climb off of Lance’s lap or out of the room. He doesn’t want things to be awkward and it’s not Lance’s job to make him feel better being rejected by six foster homes or his parents. Keith’s fine, he survived and he needs to just get over it already.

But instead he’s making things weird for his kindhearted and lovable boyfriend, who probably can’t even imagine that. Lance definitely would’ve gotten adopted right away. Keith starts to pull back, grimacing a little as he stares down at his hands. “Yeah, sorry –“

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me, I plan on sticking around,” Lance says with a warm timbre as he pulls Keith back to his chest, fingers running through his hair. Keith needs to cut it into his lucky mullet soon, but … he kind of doesn’t want to to anymore. Plus it wasn’t that lucky last season. Keith glances up at Lance with a shaky smile, swallowing the tears that are threatening to come out as he traces his fingers over Lance’s shoulder blade. Lance grins at him, expression growing a little more playful as a smirk comes over his face. “At least through the Olympics, I want us to have matching gold medals. Think about how many likes we’ll get on Instagram.”

“We don’t even know if we’ll be on the Olympic team,” Keith mutters with a low chuckle, voice a little raspy from the tears he managed not to shed. Keith smiles at Lance softly, eyebrows sloping down as he pulls one hand off of Lance’s back to rest it against his cheek instead.

“I’m confident,” Lance murmurs with a sly smirk, though there’s a nervousness in his gaze that lets Keith know he’s not as confident as he seems. That just isn’t right. Keith frowns tightly at that and glances down at Lance’s chest, because Keith wants to, needs to let Lance know that he’s incredible. Keith can’t think of anyone who better for next year’s Olympic team, and he wants to let Lance know how he feels. But Keith is … he’s not good with words. Or emotions. He’s got too many and he doesn’t understand any of them, so it’s not like he’s great at helping with anyone else’s.

“You should be,” Keith says after a beat, slowly grabbing Lance’s hands and squeezing them as he stares up at Lance, trying to put everything he’s thinking into his expression. Lance seems to get it, gaze growing from suspicious and a little nervous to warm and touched, squeezing Keith’s hands back after a moment as he leans in for another kiss that feels like a thank you.

The mood’s killed when Lance accidentally dislodges Keith from his lap and onto the floor when Shiro suddenly comes from the door, but Keith still remembers the feel of that smile against his lips for the rest of the night.

The next morning Keith doesn’t see Lance until after they’ve both finished their warm ups, Coran moving from one side of the rink to the other to keep a watchful eye on both of them. Keith knows it’s for the best, because they’re not just boyfriends today, their rivals again too. Keith still gives Lance a small smile as he stretches next to him, wanting to get his flexibility up before his short routine. There aren’t quite as many twists and turns in it as his free skate, but it’s still more than almost anyone else’s there. And Keith’s the one who needs to prove himself.

Coran comes over to them as they both stand up from their respective places on the floor, resting one hand on each of their shoulders like he did that first day when they became rink mates. Keith glances up at the man, who’s smiling down at them, gaze full of pride even though they haven’t done anything yet. Keith can’t stop himself from smiling back, some of the nerves fading from his stomach as he stares back at Coran. “Boys, I know you’re both going to do your best. Whatever happens, you’ve already made me very proud.”

“Thanks Coran,” Lance says with a wide smile, giving the man a quick half hug before stepping back. Keith watches the interaction, the ease between them, the warmth and understanding between them. He hopes he and Coran get there someday. He thinks he and Shiro … no, actually, he thinks they’re like that now at home. Keith’s not sure they were ever like that on the ice. Maybe that was the problem.

Lance turns on his heel and gets in line, his short skate before Keith’s. Lance looks nervous, smile bright and charming as he looks at his fans, but Keith can see the way Lance fidgets a little, the nervous glint in his eyes as they start his music. He doesn’t need to be, because Lance lands his first quad with no visible sign of effort and then immediately goes into a triple toe loop. Keith’s seen it plenty of times before, but he still takes a deep breath, grin growing warmer as Lance goes into his next step sequence. Lance turns fluidly, arms gliding through the air as he goes into his next jump in time with the beat of _Under The Sea_. Keith claps as hard as he can when Lance’s routine finishes, coming up to the edge of the rink and giving him a wide smile. There’s no way he’s not first right now.

Lance grins over at him softly, eyes crinkling softly as he gives him a small wave as he moves off of the ice. Which means it’s time for Keith to get on it, taking a deep breath as he slides onto the ice. He can do this.

Keith belongs to the ice and the ice belongs to him. His first set of flying sit spins go perfectly; Keith’s body twisting through the air like the bird Coran imagines him to be. Keith goes into his first two jumps – a triple salchow and a double loop. Keith goes into his step sequence, wrists twisting in air artfully, the way Coran has trained him too, and for Keith isn’t worried about how awkward he looks during presentation. He feels free. The feeling fades a bit when he comes crashing down on his quad salchow, but Keith’s surprised to find he’s not that mad at himself. Disappointed, but not taken out of the rhythm of the routine the way he was at Worlds. Keith lands his quadruple lutz, smiling to himself as he goes into his last set of turns. It wasn’t perfect, but Keith can live with that. Probably.

When the scores come in, Lance ends up in second by a .20 difference. Keith thinks he should’ve come in first, but he bites his tongue because arguing with judges has never gone well for anyone and Lance would kill him. Keith’s in fourth by an entire point difference, and he hugs himself a little too tightly to hide his embarrassment from the cameras. Keith doesn’t think he’s going to make the podium this time, but at least he didn’t shame himself. It could be worse.

“Hey, we both have the free skate tomorrow, and fourth isn’t bad at all, so many people have come back from fourth to get on the podium,” Lance says as he throws an arm over his shoulder with an easy grin, as though reading Keith’s mind. Keith Lance’s teeth are blindingly white, and Keith is tempted to lean over and give him a quick kiss, but he reminds himself that they’re still at the competition and that probably would be inappropriate.

“Yeah, but look at you, already in second,” Keith tells Lance with the same confidence as he had last night when he was sitting in his lap, slowly linking their fingers together so he can squeeze Lance’s free hand, the other holding a stuffed shark from Coran. Keith squeezes Lance’s side and lets his gaze grow soft and adoring, because he might not be happy with his position, but Lance deserves this win. Keith can’t wait to see him with a medal around his neck. Lance seems to understand him, smile growing tenderer and gaze warm as he squeezes Keith’s hand back. “I usually leave the math to Pidge, but anyone could tell that’s a good score.”

“Thanks Keith,” Lance murmurs as they start walking out of the rink together, but then he stops dead. Keith glances over at him, frowning a little when for once Lance is the one looking confused, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth pressed into a small pout. “Wait, who the fuck is Pidge?”

Keith laughs loud and open, leaning into Lance’s side as he explains that it’s Katie Holt’s nickname. They make it back to Shiro and Coran, and instead of going straight to training; Keith goes to dinner after a short competition for once. It’s easy and relaxed and nice, but it also gives time for Keith to think about every inadequacy in his routine, especially the fall. Shiro and Coran send them upstairs ahead of them again, waving them off as they order drinks. Keith sighs a little when they get to the bedroom, trying to get out of his head and into the moment as he kisses Lance, fingers nervously running down his arms. Lance slowly peels them off and entangles their fingers together, raising an eyebrow as he gives Keith a worried look.

“You seem a little anxious again,” Lance says, voice soft but pointed at the same time as he and Keith sit down on the bed together. So much for making out. Keith takes a deep breath, wrapping the arm not held by Lance’s around his waist and wishing he could cross his arms. Lance gives him a small nod, eyebrows dropping a little.

“I need to work on my poker face,” Keith admits with a small sigh, glancing down at the floor, trying to figure out how to express himself. Keith has, he’s never had anything but skating. Everything else goes away. The ice is the only thing that stays. He can’t lose that too. What comes out sounds a lot worse than that though. “I just. Really want to get on the podium.”

“And I bet you will, but you know it’s okay if you don’t, you’re relearning a lot this season,” Lance reminds him as he squeezes his hand softly, eyelashes fluttering a little as he leans in toward Keith. Keith meets him halfway, lips pressing together as they lean back on the bed. Keith tries to put all of his emotions into the kiss; into the way he leans into Lance’s solid body and warm touch. Keith likes him so much and he wants Lance to know, to let him in even just a little. After they break the kiss, Keith looks up at the ceiling, trying to decide what he should say next.

“Yeah, but if I get up there, we can stand next to each other on the podium,” Keith explains after a beat, leaning against Lance’s shoulder. Keith glances up at him with a sheepish smile, squeezing his hand a little as he thinks back over the past six weeks. Keith flushes a little as he gives Lance a more meaningful look, biting his lip a little. “Keith and Lance, neck in neck.”

“What, did you memorize all my press conferences?” Lance asks with a surprised laugh before he pulls Keith into another kiss, fingers brushing against his cheek. Keith decides not to ever tell Lance that he used to watch all of them, waiting to see that bright grin or the way Lance’s eyes flicker in delight when he saw one of his fans. Some things are okay not share.

Keith is first in the free skate the next morning, and he can’t stop the nerves from building in his chest as he moves toward the ice. But it’s not like it was at Worlds, none of the tension or hurt running through his veins, body feeling safe and familiar instead of like the traitor it did last year. Keith smiles over at Shiro in the stands, Shiro waving cheerfully and giving him a warm smile. Keith grins back at him, heart surprisingly light. He still wants to make Shiro proud, but it’s not the oppressive thing it was last year. Keith turns back to the edge of the rink and meets Coran’s and Lance’s encouraging gaze with a quick nod, because they’re right. Keith can do this. Keith

Keith slides onto the ice, going into a donut spin and then straight into Biellmann, body feeling lighter than it has in months. Keith throws himself into the motions, landing his first jump and immediately sliding into his step sequence. Keith takes a deep breath, reminding himself he’s a bird as he leaps into his quadruple Salchow. This time he lands it. Keith lands every other jump in his routine too, and as he comes toward the end of it, Keith makes a decision that he hopes he doesn’t end up regretting. Well, two decisions. Keith leaps into his triple axel and then into his what’s supposed to be a triple lutz. Keith makes it a quad, earning surprised gasps from the audience, but Keith can’t hear them over the music and the buzz through his own body as he lands it and slides into an I-spin, finally managing ‘pencil’ form before sliding into his finishing stance.

Keith glides off the ice in a kind of daze, straight into Coran’s waiting arms. The older man ruffles his hair; grinning brightly, gaze so warm and proud it’s almost hypnotic. Keith smiles back, feeling delirious as he hugs the other man before he pulls away, smile only growing brighter when he sees Lance come into view. Maybe they’ll end up on the podium together after all. Lance pushes something into his arms as he presses their foreheads together. “Keith, that was amazing!”

“You got me a hippo?” Keith asks softly, glancing down at the oversized stuffed animal resting between his hands. He always used to think it was stupid, infantilizing how they gave some skaters stuffed animals. But that was before he got a stuffed hippo.

Lance’s smile falters a little, fingers clutching together tightly as he stares at Keith. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it,” Keith assures him with another quick half hug, before he’s being pulled away from Lance and toward where he needs to wait for his score. He hugs his hippo the entire time, one eye glued to the monitor as he waits to see if he’s going to miss the start of Lance’s routine. He wants to be by the rink again to cheer Lance on, defend him from mean-spirited journalists, if only with tight glares and huffs.

When Keith arrives back at the rink, Lance is a few moves into his routine, and Keith sucks in a breath. Something’s off. Keith can feel it in the air, in the tense lines of Lance’s body. Lance’s step sequence is beautiful but lacks his usual passion, and his expression is closer to dead-eyed than his usual bright-eyed charm. His jumps are still beautiful and perfect, he just feels distant and disconnected from the audience and music alike. It’s the same problem Keith had for years, but it’s not an issue that Lance has ever had before, not even in his short routine yesterday. Keith has no idea what happened to throw Lance off like this.

Then it happens, almost in slow motion. Lance goes down on his next jump hard, and for a brief, terrifying moment Keith’s afraid he might not get up. Keith clutches the edge of the rink, leaning forward and biting his lip as Lance pulls himself up from the ice and finishes his routine as though by rote, the rest of his jumps perfect, but any emotion or flair gone. Keith’s pretty sure he skips at least one spin. Lance skates off the ice, eyebrows sloped downward and tears building in the back of his eyes as he gets to the edge of the rink. Keith comes to his side, but Lance goes right by him without a word. Keith can’t blame him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Keith says as he gently hands Lance his shark, giving him a weak smile as Lance gives him a disbelieving look. Coran shakes his head minutely, gaze tight as he stares over at them. Keith knows he right, but he can’t stop himself from speaking, words spilling out in a desperate attempt to get the smile from yesterday back on his face. “You had one of the hardest programs here. It was harder than mine.”

“Yeah, let’s wait for the scores,” Lance mumbles as he gives Keith a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his gaze. Lance walks away with Coran, not glancing back at Keith once. Keith slides onto the bench and bites his lip, fingers tight against the cold metal. It’s going to work out. Lance will get up there. Keith knows he will. Lance deserves this, and Keith … Keith hugs his hippo to his chest and closes his eyes as they announce the final results.

Keith gets silver. Lance doesn’t make the podium.


	4. Flying

Lance takes a shuttle by himself back to the hotel, his stony glower and pursed lips keeping everyone from coming within five feet of him. This must be what it feels like to be Keith. Lance manages to slip the sports press hanging out by the hotel, a little relieved Rollo is staying here so everyone will just pay attention to him and his gold medal. Lance didn’t like answering questions about why he wasn’t good enough the last time, let alone now when he’s supposed to have gotten better. Lance scans the hotel lobby and sees the exit for the pool. No one will look for him there. Not in November.

Lance sits on one of the lounge chairs and lets out a low groan, slowly pressing his face into his hands and thanking God Coran decided they should fly home tomorrow. After about fifteen minutes he feels the lounge sag just the tiniest bit more, and he looks up to find Keith staring back at him with a small frown. Lance gives him a half nod, letting out a small breath as Keith wraps an arm around his shoulder and slowly moves in, grabbing Lance’s other hand with his free one.

“Hey, I figured you might be out here,” Keith calls as though Lance is far away, which Lance guesses makes sense. He feels like he’s outside of his body right now. Keith’s touch helps ground him a little, but his mind is still on the ice. “It’s going to be okay, we still have the Cup of China.”

“Yeah,” Lance mumbles as he glances over at Keith, pulling him a little closer. He tries and fails to work up a smile, making an expression that’s more of a grimace than anything else. Keith’s eyebrows slope down as he leans closer to Lance, their thighs brushing together. Lance has to admit it helps a little, to feel Keith curled up against him, that Keith is out here trying to comfort him when he could be taking his own victory lap inside.

“You’re routine was still amazing,” Keith says with another small grin, warm and encouraging as he squeezes Lance’s hand. There’s so much sincerity in his gaze that Lance can’t help smiling back. “We all have bad days.”

Lance bites back a sigh, because he knows Keith means well and Keith did have a really bad day a year and a month ago. But Keith had one bad day, whereas Lance had an entire season of them the year before. He didn’t even make the Juniors Grand Prix that season. Lance can’t afford to have many more bad ones. “Yeah, but I had a whole season of them just a year and a half ago, I was kind of hoping to put the next screw up wouldn’t be for a few more. Like five or six.”

“Lance, it wasn’t a screw up,” Keith murmurs softly as he wraps his arm around Lance’s shoulder a little more tightly. Lance shoots him a sharp look out of the corner of his eye, because apparently Keith’s forgetting when he came crashing down onto the ice like a rock. Keith shakes his head softly, gaze growing determined when he speaks again, as though the sheer force of his will make Lance feel better. “You still did well, and your routine’s one of the hardest one’s there.”

Lance nods a little and presses his head against Keith’s, the angle slightly awkward because of how much Keith is wrapped around him and their slight height difference. Lance’s frown grows a little tighter as he remembers watching everyone skate out to the podium. Everyone but him (and several other skaters, but that was besides the point right now). “Yeah, but not good enough to make the podium.”

“Hey, fourth isn’t bad at all,” Keith says in the same determined voice as before, gaze narrowing a little as his eyebrows scrunch together. He looks a little like he wants to fight anyone who’d insult Lance, even Lance himself. It’s sweet, how devoted Keith is, how much belief he has in Lance. But at the same time … they’re rivals and Lance knows Keith knows why this isn’t okay. He doesn’t want blind adoration, he wants comfort.

“Would you be okay with it?” Lance asks in a voice that’s a little harsher than he means, giving Keith a pointed look as he presses his lips into a thin line.

“Well, no, but that’s different,” Keith answers without pause, gazing up at the sky for a second. Lance can’t stop his face from falling, eyebrows sloping down and mouth falling a little open. He can feel tears building in the back of his eyes and he tries to push them down. Keith glances at him and bites his lips, gaze growing pained as he seems to have realized that he said the wrong thing just a little too late. “No, I mean, because I had a lot to prove.”

“Yeah, you’re not the only who does Keith!” Lance snaps as he pulls away from Keith, leaning back when Keith’s hand chases after his a second later. A wounded look flits across Keith’s face, but then it fades just as quickly as it came, back to the guilty, sympathetic look that was there a few seconds ago. It’s not pity, but it’s not far enough away from it for Lance’s liking either.

“No, I know that, I just mean – you’re really good and you shouldn’t feel bad,” Keith mutters in a soft voice, eyebrows sloping down as he stares over at Lance. Lance knows he means it from the way Keith holds his gaze. He knows Keith is trying here, but … it’s not enough. Not right now.

“This is worse than – no, never mind. Look, I’m going to go to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lance says instead of telling Keith how he’s making it worse or asking if he can just hold Keith (because he wants to feel strong and capable and _needed_ right now) or anything that might make things better. Instead Lance walks back inside the lobby and doesn’t wait to see if Keith comes inside too. He’ll find his own way. Keith always does.

Lance sits next to Coran instead of Keith on the ride home and tries to spend most of his time sleeping or watching superhero movies. He can feel Keith’s gaze on the back of his neck a few times, but Lance staunchly ignores it. he doesn’t want to fight with Keith and he thinks if they talked right now, they might. Lance is … he can be a jealous person, and a part of his mind keeps going back to Keith up there on the podium, silver medal gleaming around his neck, while Lance wasn’t. It’s unfair and it’s not Keith’s fault, but Lance still needs some space.

Which is why he’s glad that Shiro and Keith planned a three day camping trip for right when they all got back no matter the results, both of them disappearing before Keith has a chance to seek Lance out. In the days since, Keith has sent him lots of photos of various plants and animals, and Lance has done his best to reply with cute selfies and emojis and pretend everything is fine. But it’s not.

And that’s how Lance finds himself at Hunk’s door that Sunday, tight frown on his face as he slumps on his bed. Hunk sits at his desk chair, head pressed into his palms as he glances over at Lance with a raised eyebrow. “Can I talk to you about Keith?” 

“Can’t we ever talk about my relationship troubles?” Hunk asks with a low sigh, shaking his head and looking a little miffed. Lance winces a little, because yeah, things have been pretty all ‘Keith and Lance, Lance and Keith’ the past six weeks. It’s partially because Hunk and Shay are the most perfect couple in the world whereas he and Keith have more communication issues than an episode of _Gilmore Girls_. But that doesn’t mean Hunk and Shay don’t have their own issues, or that Lance doesn’t want to be there for his best friend.

“Of course, what’s up with you and Shay?” Lance asks with a small grimace as Hunk covers his face with one hand, eyebrows sliding down his face almost in slow motion. Whatever this is, it’s serious.

“She made me the cutest bracelet,” Hunk sighs as he pulls his hand away, expression dreamy with wide eyes and a small smile. He holds one hand out so Lance can see the bracelet, yellow and black beads in the shape of various types of puppies, Hunk’s favorite animal. It _is_ pretty cute, Lance has to admit, but he’s not sure why it’s a problem. “How am I ever gonna make her something as good by next weekend? She’ll love it no matter what, but I want it to be great.”

“You’re pain is duly noted,” Lance mutters as he rolls his eyes a little bit, though he gives Hunk a quick grin to let him know he’s joking. Lance is happy that Hunk’s relationship continues to be perfect, he really is, but he also does need advice about the Keith Issue right now. Lance takes a deep breath as he glances over at Hunk. “I think … I got fourth at Skate Canada, after a season of doing really well. Only one thing in my life has changed since last year, and that is Keith, and lots of people say balancing love and work is impossible.”

“Lance, I’d be careful blaming dating for this,” Hunk tells him gently, eyebrows going up a little as he gives Lance an understanding smile. “You like Keith a lot, and sometimes falls just kind of happen. I fall all the time in hockey.”

“No, I know it’s not Keith’s fault, but … he tried to comfort me afterwards, and the cuddling made me feel better but then … it didn’t work out. And I just know that’s how it’s going to if we keep dating, and I don’t want to feel bad and eventually he’ll catch on that I feel bad and then he’ll feel bad, and everyone loses,” Lance says with a deep groan, pressing one hand over his face. He likes Keith so much, Keith is adorable, but he doesn’t want a situation where they both feel like shit. And so far that’s where their relationship seems to go when things get bad. Hunk slides a warm, firm hand on his shoulder, expression soft and a little sad.

“I mean, that makes sense, but just, think about what’s gonna make you happiest before you rush into anything,” Hunk mutters carefully, gaze sympathetic as he rubs Lance’s shoulder again.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers, the good times and the more awkward ones with Keith flashing through his mind, both in the past three weeks and also from before they were dating, all the way back to when they were kids. Keith has always been a part of his life. Lance can’t imagine it without him in it. He just needs to figure out the best way for Keith to be in it.

Lance comes to a decision that’s in between the two after he leaves Hunk, sending Keith a quick text asking to have breakfast tomorrow. Keith answers back with a smiling emoji, the one with a blush on its face. Lance smiles at his phone fondly and wonders if Keith chose that one because it looks the most like him when he’s trying to be romantic, or because he doesn’t know which emoji actually means ‘happy’. With Keith it could really go either way.

Lance shakes the thought away, because it’s a dangerous road to go down, knowing what he’s going to do tomorrow. He needs to stay firm, both for his own sake and for Keith’s. He still saves the photo Keith sends of him climbing a tree, one knee scraped and grinning proudly.

They meet at the café they normally have breakfast or lunch at during practice, Lance giving Keith a tight smile as Keith comes over to the table. He pushes a coffee Keith’s way, full of cinnamon and vanilla, an apology for what’s about to come. Keith’s fingers brush against his as he takes it, and Lance pulls his hand back like it’s been burned.

“Keith, we need to talk,” Lance says with a slight wince, because he knows that being blunt is better than making Keith wait. It just hurts to watch Keith’s face fall, eyebrows sloping down and lips pressing into a worried frown as he stares back at Lance.

Keith picks up his coffee like he’s about to take a sip and then puts it back down, expression growing more anxious as he stares back at Lance. Apparently Keith is good at picking up on some moods. Lance pushes that thought aside, trying to give Keith a weak smile even as Keith nervously starts running his hands over his thumbs. “What’s up?”

“Look, I really, really like you,” Lance whispers, keeping his voice quiet to keep it from cracking, because it’s not fair to cry when he’s the one putting things on hold. Keith nods wordlessly, gaze growing distant as he leans back in his chair a little further. Lance bites his lip, almost wanting to stop things now before they get hard, but no. Keith deserves to hear this face to face. “This isn’t because of you. You’re really cute and fun in your own way – no, you’re just fun. It’s not you. But after what happened at Skate Canada, I think we should take a break. Not forever of course, but at least through the Grand Prix.”

“A break?” Keith asks with a small frown, expression tight but also a little confused, eyebrows scrunching together. Lance bites back a low groan, because of course Keith has never seen _Friends_ before somehow. Of course. None of this can be easy.

“Not go out anymore,” Lance explains in a soft voice, gaze dropping to the table as he hears Keith’s sharp gasp. It’s more hurt than surprised, but that doesn’t make Lance feel any better. Lance glances up to find Keith staring at him with a blank expression, all of his usual passion or adorableness gone and replaced with the aloof face he used to wear at competitions. “I’m not gonna go out with anyone else –“

“You can if you want to,” Keith says with a small shrug, expression not changing as he glances over at the door. Lance can’t stop the stab of hurt at that, because he wants Keith to care. But he is the one asking to put their relationship on hold for a few weeks. Then he turns back to Lance, emotion finally back in his gaze. But it’s not the anger or hurt or arguments that Lance expects. It’s a quiet resignation, a look of defeat Lance has never seen Keith wear before. “Okay.”

Lance blinks owlishly as he stares back at Keith, waiting for him to do something that seems well, Keith like. Instead Keith just gets up from the table with a sad smile, gaze still distant as he wraps his scarf back around his neck. Lance leans forward, his own voice weak as he speaks. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, we both knew this was probably how thing we’re going to end up, right?” Keith mutters as he cocks his head, voice sounding practiced as though he’s given it before. Lance guesses he probably has, or at least a slightly different version of it. Everyone knows Keith went through up to six foster families before he started living with the Shirogane’s. Lance hopes Keith gets that this is different, temporary. “We talked about it here a week ago.”

“Right, well, I’ll see you at practice,” Lance calls as Keith walks out of the café. Keith glances back at him over his shoulder, eyes heavy with sloped eyebrows as he gives him a quick nod. Then he’s out the door. Lance feels painfully alone, chest hollow as he stares out the window. Lance knows he did the right thing in the long run, but he still feels like he punched himself in the gut. Lance glances down at the table. Keith’s coffee is still there, untouched, and the sight of it makes a few tears slide down Lance’s face. Doing the right thing really sucks sometimes.

* * *

Keith glides onto the ice, trying to keep his mind focused on his warm up and not on Lance. He doesn’t really manage, memories of Lance’s smile, Lance’s cute jokes, of Lance’s hand in his, of Lance surprising him with another coffee Keith likes more than he should given the sheer amount of sugar in it, all of it flashes through Keith’s memory. He’s not even surprised when he hits the ice on his first jump. It’s almost comforting; to be hit with a pain he can actually understand. Keith rolls him to his feet and goes through the rest of his routine, trying to keep his mind on his aching hip and shoulder and not on Lance.

Keith skates off to the side of the rink, pausing as he holds onto the side. It isn’t his worst routine, but it’s far from his best. And his shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, so his mind can’t help drifting back to Lance’s gaze, heavy with grief as his eyebrows sloping down, when he asked if Keith wanted to take a break. Keith doesn’t get it. People weren’t usually that upset when they realized Keith isn’t worth the effort. But then Lance is a lot nicer than most people, so Keith guesses that makes sense. He probably didn’t want to hurt Keith.

“You stumbled a few times, but it wasn’t bad, not bad at all,” Coran says with a gentle smile as he comes off the ice, patting Keith on the shoulder for a moment. His gaze, while still kind, grows a little more piercing as he pulls his hand back. Keith stiffens a little under Coran’s watchful eye, wondering why he’s looking at him like that. “I noticed you and Lance aren’t coming to the rink together anymore.”

“It’s, it’ll be fine,” Keith answers softly, biting back all of the hurt bubbling under his skin. He shoots Coran a short glare, and the other man simply nods, smile never leaving his face. Keith crosses his arms a little tighter as he hurries to the dressing room to change. He doesn’t need kindness right now. “It’s better for everyone this way.”

Keith knows he’s right, because Keith is; he’s not good at this. He knows he made Lance feel worse at Skate Canada; he’s not completely hopeless when it comes to emotions. But he hadn’t known how to fix it, and that’s what counts. But a part of Keith is still disappointed he couldn’t make it work with Lance after he finally let someone in, Keith’s been so afraid of rejection, avoided it so carefully, for this exact reason. He feels like he’s walking through life half empty, like a balloon that’s being slowly deflated. Keith’s never letting anyone again, this _sucks_.

So of course that’s when Lance walks toward him, smile a little stiffer than usual as they make eye contact across the room.

“Keith!” Lance calls as he walks toward him, strides just a little too fast to be casual. Keith smiles at him, weak and brittle, trying to keep the hurt out of his gaze. Lance’s eyebrows slope down as he gives him a quick once over. Keith bites back a sigh, glaring slightly as Lance presses a hand on his shoulder “ You’re going to conditioning, right? Want to grab lunch afterwards?”

“Lunch?” Keith asks, blinking owlishly as he stares at Lance with wide eyes. He can’t be serious. Lance pulls his hand back slowly; smile growing a little weaker as Keith continues to stare at him blankly.

“Yeah, I figured that just because we’re not dating or not exactly dating right now doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still hang out, I mean we were friends before,” Lance answers him with a small laugh, one that sounds a little too high to be real. Keith wonders when he started collecting all these little details about Lance, memorized his reactions well enough to start guessing when they were faked. Normally he can only do that with Shiro.

“Well, not really?” Keith points out when he realizes too much time has passed without him saying anything. Lance’s smile vanishes, replaced with a look of shock and a little bit of hurt. Keith winces, because Lance has done a lot for him, he’s being unfair. He just. He can’t hang out with Lance right now. It’s too soon, and Keith doesn’t want Lance to force himself into a friendship out of pity. Lance deserves better than that. “I mean, that’s not what I mean, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, probably not while we’re on break. I’ll see you later, Keith,” Lance mutters as he takes a step away from him. Lance shoots him another grin, but it doesn’t reach his gaze. There’s something strange there, not quite guilty or wistful, that Keith’s never seen directed at himself before.

“Yeah,” Keith says softly, gazing back at Lance with more longing that he should probably let show, waving with one hand awkwardly until Lance is out of sight. It’s a cold walk home.

Later that day, Keith is sitting on his bed, listening to one of the possible choices for his exhibition skate. It’s something from West Side Story. It’s boring. Keith’s sure a million skaters have used it before. It has no zing, no spice, nothing that would help Keith stand out or seem like he had enough personality to bother sponsoring. If Lance were here, he’d give Keith advice about what kind of music to use, look over at him with one of his teasing smiles and start playing him something. Maybe on his guitar. But Lance isn’t here and Keith needs advice.

“Hey Shiro, do you have a minute?” Keith calls as he walks into the hallway, gazing down at the floor and digging his toes into the carpet. Shiro’s arm waves from their couch, and Keith comes over to find Shiro sitting cross-legged on one side of it. Keith curls into the other, arms crossed tight against his chest. He really does mean to as about the music. “Lance and I broke up. Well, we’re on a break, at least. I’m not really sure what the difference is.”

“Well, usually it means you’re putting the relationship on hold while you figure things out,” Shiro explains gently, eyebrows scrunching together as he gazes over at Keith.

“Oh,” Keith whispers in a small voice, because that kind of explains why Lance wanted to have lunch with him. Maybe? Keith doesn’t really know the rules of a break. Are they different than a break up? Did … did he overreact when he assumed Lance rejected him? But why else would he want to go on a break? Keith’s even more confused than he was before.

“But I thought things we’re going well between the two of you,” Shiro says with a small grin, frown growing a little tighter as he raises an eyebrow at Keith. And yeah, the little Keith’s told Shiro has been pretty idyllic, but then so is Lance.

“They were before Skate Canada, but then I tried to make Lance feel better, and I kind of made things worse,” Keith mutters, gaze dropping to the light grey couch cushion as he bites his lip. Keith … Keith had pretty much told Lance his feelings mattered less than Keith’s, even if that’s not what he meant. And Lance hadn’t even gotten mad at him when he had every right to. Keith figured that’s why Lance wanted to break up with him, or maybe because he remembered how Keith looks when he yells, or well something. There had to be a reason.

Shiro is giving him a tight frown, gaze considering as he takes in Keith’s expression. He shakes his head a little bit, something knowing and sad entering his gaze. “Keith, I’m sure it’s not that simple.”

“It usually is,” Keith reminds him with a shrug, glaring a bit as he glances up at Shiro. Shiro’s seen his files, was his mentor when he was still in foster care. He knows Keith’s angry and a problem child and has disciplinary issues, that he pushes everyone away who could possibly care about him -

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shiro asks in a tone that Keith has heard before. It’s the one he uses when Keith panics or gets too angry, and Keith is ready to be insulted when he realizes that his hands are fisted into the red and black blanket on the couch. Okay, he might be a little bit of both right now.

People don’t keep me around, Shiro,” Keith snaps before he can stop himself, voice harsh in a way that means he could either start crying or yelling any second. Keith closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, not continuing until his composure starts to come back a little. “You and Hinata have kept me around the longest and that’s only been two years and eventually the two of you will …”

“We’ll what?” Shiro says with a raised eyebrow, lips pressed into a tight frown. His gaze is a mixture of hurt and understanding as he shakes his head a little bit. “Keith, you’re my brother. Mom loves you. No one is getting rid of you. I don’t think Lance is trying to either. Sometimes people need space. It doesn’t mean their rejecting you.”

Keith bites his lip again, because he wants to believe Shiro. He’s wanted Shiro and Hinata to be his family since before he even moved in. Keith doesn’t want Lance to not be in his life anymore. But Keith doesn’t get to keep good things unless he bleeds for them, and he especially doesn’t get to have anything soft or sweet. Not unless he’s good enough. “What if my career falls apart?”

“Then we’ll figure out what’s next together,” Shiro tells him with a warm grin, the hurt fading a little as he leans over and ruffles Keith’s hair.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees after a beat, giving Shiro a sheepish grin as he leans back on the couch. Keith has a family now, and it’s new and still a little confusing, but he does. And maybe, maybe if Keith can have a family, then he can have Lance too. Maybe Keith doesn’t have to keep pushing people away or losing things, at least not the things that matter (Keith’s willing to trade gold’s and silvers for friends and family, he just never figured it would be an option).

Keith runs into the rink on Saturday, even though it’s technically his day off, scarf slapping him in the face as he goes onto the ice. Lance is doing his warm up, moving steadily across the ice, but he comes to a full stop when he sees Keith from across the rink. Keith starts skating toward him, first flushing as he moves closer and closer to Lance and realizes he has no idea what to say or do. He wishes he’d watched more romantic comedies as a kid.

“Lance! I don’t want to be on a break, I want this to be over!” Keith yells as he throws his arms out, letting his anguish out in his voice. Lance stares back at him, expression blank as he stares at Keith, arms spread out a little so Keith can see the lean lines from his shoulders to his narrow waist. Keith wants to skate right into them, but he’s pretty sure he has to wait for them to make up (if they make up) before he does that.

“Oh,” Lance mutters with a slow nod, grimacing a little as he takes a step back. His eyebrows slope down, shaking his head as he moves toward the edge of the rink. Keith frowns, because that isn’t an answer to what he said, he needs a yes or a no … oh wait. ‘I want this to be over’ maybe sounds like Keith wants to break up. Keith can hear that now.

“I mean the break, not us,” Keith says with a slight glare, but he shakes it off a moment later. Keith needs to be vulnerable here. Keith gives Lance a slightly gentler look, biting his lip as he takes another step forward. Lance doesn’t move back this time, and Keith takes that as a good sign because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I like you, I like you more than I’ve liked anyone. You’re smart and kind and funny, and you don’t make fun of me for being an asshole. I miss you.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Lance tells him with a tight frown, gaze growing a little angry as though he wants to pick a fight with all the people who’ve said that before. It makes Keith’s smile grow a little brighter, only to disappear away entirely on Lance’s next words. “But look, Keith’s a bad idea, it’s not fair to you for us to be together, at least not right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith asks as he stares over at Lance in confusion, eyes wide and mouth pressing into a tiny frown. Lance gives him a quick smile, but then his face goes carefully blank. Keith crosses his arms tightly, glaring as he leans his head toward Lance. “Fair to me? I’m the one who always says the wrong thing and doesn’t know how to show affection and ruins everything because I have too many issues.”

Lance leans in as well, growling a little as he presses his hands on his hips. His gaze is fierce, and Keith’s double downs on his own anger because how dare Lance try and insult Lance. “And I’m the one who’s insecure and ends up being petty and jealous and making you feel bad when you’re trying to help me, and treats everything like a joke!”

“You don’t make me feel bad! You make me feel good about myself!” Keith snaps as he presses his forehead in so close that it’s almost touching Lance’s chin. Keith crosses his arms so tight that he’s sure his knuckles are turning white against his maroon sweater. Lance leans in as well, so their foreheads touch this time, glares so hot that Keith half expects the ice to start melting.

Lance gives him another heated look, voice rising as grabs Keith’s shoulder with one hand; grip almost too tight for comfort. “Well you don’t ruin everything! You try really hard!”

“Trying doesn’t matter unless you succeed!” You deserve to feel loved!” Keith tells Lance in a tight voice that cracks a little at the end, glaring tightly as he presses his lips into a snarl. Lance looks even angrier now, his other hand coming up to grab Keith’s other shoulder. Keith uncrosses his arms too, one hand clenching into a fist and the other ghosting the air around Lance’s waist.

“It does to me! It shows me how much you care about me,” Lance says in an almost offended voice as Keith lets his hand press against Lance’s waist. The anger slowly drains out of Lance’s face as he stares at Keith, expression growing softer, but with a hint of amusement that steadily grows. Then Lance actually starts laughing, as he presses his head against Keith’s forehead again. “… Keith, why are we fighting?”

“I don’t know,” Keith admits as he starts giggling too, leaning up a little so he’s looking Lance in the eyes with a soft smile. Lance glances back, not breaking Keith’s gaze as he wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders until it’s more like they’re hugging. “Lance, is there any chance you want to stop being on a break?”

“Yeah, I’d like that, Keith,” Lance whispers and then be kisses Keith, soft and perfect. Keith knows this won’t be their last fight or their last break, not by a long shot, but he also knows that doesn’t mean it’s over. Lance isn’t going to leave and Keith’s going to try his best not push him away.

* * *

Lance waits in the café, holding his drink close to him as he looks around for Keith, smiling softly when the other boy comes in with cheeks red from the cold. His hair is falling over his shoulders and his eyes are still heavy with sleep and he’s all Lance’s. Lance waves over and Keith glances at the table, raising an eyebrow when he sees the coffee cup already in front of his seat. Lance shrugs and feels a little chagrined, because he knows he’s going a bit overboard trying to buy Keith coffee everyday and posting photos of them to his Instagram every other one.

But he feels really bad about the fact he made Keith think he wanted to break up with him, even if their break did only last a week and most couples go that long without seeing each other all the time. Keith keeps insisting that it’s fine and that they’ll probably have more misunderstandings like that in the future. Which … doesn’t exactly make Lance feel better, but the way Keith smiles softly when said it, gaze warm and hopeful in a way Lance hasn’t seen before, does. Those words might sound scary to Lance, but they mean something different to Keith, something Lance wants to learn too.

“Happy second first date,” Keith says with a small grin as he sits down at the table, picking up his cup with a pointed look. It’s vanilla and pumpkin spice with a whiff of lavender today. Lance wonders when Keith will realize he’s gotten him addicted to fancy coffee.

“We didn’t actually break up, you know,” Lance tells him with a scoff, leaning over to steal a sip of Keith’s coffee. Keith lets him but doesn’t let go of his cup, so Lance’s hands are resting on top of his while he drinks. It looks ridiculous and Lance can’t help smiling as he drinks (which is a lot harder than it looks). “I can’t believe it’s already almost time for the Cup of China. I feel like Skate Canada was like a week ago.”

“Grand Prix time is rough,” Keith mumbles tiredly as he takes another sip of his coffee, the red of his fingerless wool gloves bright against the cup. Lance glances down at his own drink, a Chai latte he’s barely had a sip of, and lets outa low exhale. The China Cup, where he’s competing against his boyfriend. Again. Keith frowns a little as he takes in Lance’s expression, eyebrows pushing together. “You’re upset.”

“No, I’m just … I wish they didn’t keep assigning us to the same events, you know?” Lance sighs as he twirls his stirrer into his coffee again, even though he hasn’t added anything yet. Keith blinks over at him, eyebrows sloping down like he doesn’t get Lance’s point. Lance takes another deep breath and gives Keith a weak smile. “Its bad enough I’ve got competition nerves, let alone having to compete against my boyfriend.”

“We weren’t dating then,” Keith says with a small cock of his head, as though Lance doesn’t remember the exact moment Keith kissed him on the ice when it’s imprinted in his memory. Then Keith gives him a small smile, taking another sip of his coffee as he glances over at Lance shyly. “Besides, I think it’s kind of nice, that we get to be together so much.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Lance mutters, because he knows Keith has a point there. Seeing Keith everyday has been good for their relationship and good for Lance, he just wishes they could do it without having to compete against each other too.

“Most people barely see their friends and family during the season,” Keith points out with a small sigh, gaze wistful, and Lance wonders if he means his own family until he remembers who they are. He means the family that Lance never met and Keith barely got to, but the expression’s gone as fast as it came. Instead Keith leans forward, smirking a little as he flutters his eyelashes. “But you get to be with me all day every day.”

“Was that you trying to flirt?” Lance asks with a low snort, shaking his head a little bit as he imagines Keith googling how to flirt and making the expressions in the mirror at himself. Keith pouts with flushed cheeks, crossing his arms as he leans over and steals part of Lance’s croissant. Lance thinks he might just be right. The thought makes him lean over and kiss Keith on the forehead, stealing back part of his croissant while he does. Lance could get used to this.

Keith and Lance, in honor of getting back together (even if they never really broke up) end up repeating the routine they did from their first date. This time they don’t hesitate on the first lift, Lance spinning Keith through the air and gently landing him back on the ice, brushing back one of his bangs as he does. Keith grins and skates the next part of the routine, switching into Zarkon’s footwork halfway through. Lance raises an eyebrow and follows through, gliding toward Keith as Keith lifts his arm up for the lift. It doesn’t go as well even though they’re about equally strong, Lance’s extra inches meaning Keith almost drops Lance flat on the ground.

Keith doesn’t though, adjusting his hold so Lance slides down the front of his body instead, ending up with his arms wrapped around Keith’s upper back as his feet hit the ice. Keith shrugs and then twirls out of his hold, switching back into Haggar’s moves. They’re about to go for the next part of the old routine, which they’ve never tried before, when they hear clapping. Lance looks over to find Coran clapping in the bleachers, gaze warm and relieved as he stares over at them.

“Amazing! But please work on your individual routines too! We haven’t switched you over to pairs just yet,” Coran calls as he opens the gate with a playful laugh, shaking his head as they skate toward him. Lance zips his jacket up a bit more as he realizes that Coran is right. They do leave for China tomorrow, after all.

Another long flight, that Lance again sleeps most of (Keith claims he won Animal Crossing in the same time frame, and Lance is kind enough to point out that’s not really a game you can win, and they find themselves at another hotel lobby, surrounded by other skaters. Keith inches closer to him, crossing his arms a little as they look over at the familiar faces. Lance throws an arm around his shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze to try and calm Keith’s nerves. He always has hated crowds.

“So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Lance asks as they walk up the stairs to their two rooms, having left Shiro and Coran in the lobby. Keith glances back at him with a blank look, and Lance isn’t sure if he doesn’t get the reference or doesn’t know what the elephant is, but either way Lance is going to cut to the chase. “The Grand Prix?”

“Right,” Keith agrees with a small nod, giving Lance a serious look as they reach the two doors. Keith nods again, but then his eyebrows scrunch together as he starts fidgeting with the edge of his sweater sleeve. “What about it?”

“How are we gonna handle it if you go and I don’t or if I go and you don’t?” Lance says with a slightly exasperated groan as Keith looks up at the ceiling without saying anything. Then Keith looks back down, expression still the same softly confused look from before. How is Keith not freaking out about this too? Keith’s supposed to be the emotional one in this relationship, not him.

Keith finally shrugs, giving Lance a small smirk as he leans in toward him. Lance raises an eyebrow, leaning forward a little as he wonders what answer Keith found. “Well, ideally we both go?”

“Keith,” Lance rasps, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a gasp and a laugh. Keith grins back at him, leaning against his doorframe as he crosses his arms like he’s the bad boy in a teen movie. “I’m supposed to be the teasing one in this relationship.”

“I’m complex,” Keith quips as he starts to unlock his door. Lance pulls at the edge of his own jacket sleeve for a second, but it doesn’t give him the same relief it seems to give Keith a lot of the time, so he lets it fall back into place, a little more wrinkled than before. Keith glances over at him, the playfulness in his gaze from a few seconds ago gone and replaced by something more serious and sincere. “But if that happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“I’ll … be jealous,” Lance admits as he kicks the floor a little, glancing down with a tight frown. It’s not something he wants to admit to Keith, maybe not even fair to admit to him, but Lance needs Keith to know the truth. Lance glances up at Keith, eyebrows sloping down and worrying at his lip a little when Keith raises his eyebrows. “It’s not one of my better qualities.”

“Lance, I’ll be jealous too,” Keith says after a beat, letting out a small giggle as he glances up at him. His expression is a mixture of amusement and confusion, but there’s none of the hurt Lance expected.

Lance blinks a little because he’s trying to process what Keith just said, and how he said it. He can’t have heard what he thinks he heard. Keith Kim, the prodigy, the most flexible male skater in decades, would be jealous of _him_? It makes no sense. “What?”

“I want to go to the Grand Prix too, of course you’d be jealous,” Keith explains with a small shrug, as though it hasn’t even occurred to Keith that it’s way more likely that he’ll go than that Lance will. Maybe because for Keith’s not, Lance realizes as his gaze grows fond, smiling slowly over at the boy whose staring at him like he’s the sun. Lance might believe in himself enough yet, but Keith believes in him. “But I know you. You’ll be happy for me too, and I’ll be happy for you.”

“When did you get so good at this?” Lance asks softly as he leans forward to cup Keith’s cheek with his hand. Keith smiles back at him, leaning into the touch and letting his own hand find its way to Lance’s jaw.

“I had a really good teacher,” Keith answers in a whisper as he leans up and kisses Lance, slow and soft. He smiles, teasing and sweet, as he pulls away and slides through his hotel door. Lance knows, that whatever happens tomorrow, this moment happened. Maybe that can be enough (along with a Gold or Silver).

The next morning brings the short routines. Lance is first and he glides onto the ice filled with determination. He is the dragon of the sea, damnit, and he will conquer these waves, not be defeated by them like he was at Skate Canada. Lance glides into his first step sequence, pushed by as drive beyond what he normally feels. His last turn is a little sharp, but it’s filled with a passion that Lance knows will get him presentation points. Every jump is landed perfectly, no hesitation and no wobbling. Lance lands a quad salchow and goes straight into a triple axel, and even he expects himself to fall because of the change, but instead he lands as smoothly as ever. Lance feels like he’s in the water as he glides into his final position, not even able to hear the crowds over the waves in his heart.

Keith is up a little after him, body tight when he first slides onto the ice, as though remembering the fall in his last short routine. But as Lance watches, heart filling with pride, the tightness falls away to something fluid and loose. Each movement is perfect, every turn an act of flexibility and passion. Gone are both the expressionless skater and the hotheaded competitor, replaced by a new skater, one whose emotions and natural skills blend together to make Keith seem at once powerful and vulnerable. Keith’s jumps are landed with no wobbling this time, each triple lutz and quad toe loop hit between Keith’s many spins. Keith’s top, a red and orange pattern of glitter shaped like feathers but that look like flames under the lights, shine as he slides into his final position. It’s no surprise Keith is just barely second to Lance after that.

“We both did pretty well this time,” Lance murmurs as Keith comes back from his cam, holding his hippo to his chest with one hand. The other reaches out to grab Lance’s, squeezing it softly as Keith gives him a proud smile. “Though last time, I did well too.”

“Don’t worry about it Lance, just focus on doing your best tomorrow,” Keith whispers in his ear as he leans in, squeezing his hand again before he gives Lance another kiss on the cheek. The words themselves aren’t perfect, but the soft smile on Keith’s face and the adoration in his gaze, he feel of Keith’s body pressed up against his, tell Lance far more than Keith’s words ever could. Lance gets that now, and what Keith’s face and body is telling him is that Keith believes in him.

“Yeah,” Lance says back, squeezing Keith’s hand as they walk toward the exit of the rink. Tomorrow would come and Lance and Keith will both try their hardest. That’s all anyone else can ask for.

* * *

Keith finds himself stretching next to Lance the next morning before their free skate, them deciding they might as well stay together, since it’s not like staying apart helped them at skate Canada. Keith slides his hands down his calves and then past his toes, glancing at where his fingers end up. It’s further than yesterday and Keith lets out a small sigh of relief. He needs to be at his best today. He has more difficult spins in his long program. Keith jumps to a standing position, holding up one leg so it’s straight up by his face. Lance whistles from where he’s stretching his quads, giving Keith a thumbs up with his free hand.

Keith grins over at him, shaking his head so some of his bangs fall across his face. He needs to at least cut those soon. The rest of his hair is easy to pull back into a tight bun as it is now. Lance leans over during his next stretch, so his shoulders brush against Keith’s as he pulls himself up. He stops in front of his face, grin growing softer as he Keith a fond look. Keith slides his leg back down to the ground, returning the smile with a small one of his own as he wonders what Lance is about to say.

   “Hey Keith, I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” Lance whispers as he leans in, his eyes bright, long fingers brushing against Keith’s shoulder, a few blue sparkles from his costume catching on the red in Keith’s. Keith raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips together as he waits for Lance to explain what he means or about what thing Keith said. “About just focusing on today. And I think we should apply that to more than just today.”

Keith cocks his head a little, taking in the way Lance’s curls spread out across his forehead and the edges of his neck, soft and shining. Keith leans over and brushes a few back, frowning a little as he scrunches his eyebrows together. he’s for anything that makes Lance this happy, but Keith’s a little lost. “What are you talking about?”

“All either of us can do is try our best,” Lance tells him with a small shrug as he grabs one of Keith’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. Keith stares up at him with wide eyes, because he’s still not used to the idea of trying being enough. Lance seems to understand, smile growing tenderer as he reaches his other hand up to move Keith’s hair out of his eyes. “Even if one or both of us doesn’t make it, it doesn’t change the fact we’ve both worked really hard this season.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Keith says with a small grin, because he knows that Lance is right. No matter if they both get medals or don’t end up on the podium, they’ve both done well because they’re both in a better place than they were at the beginning of the season, more skilled and stronger than they were before. Not getting on the podium won’t be great for there being a rest of the season, though. “I still hope we both go to the Grand Prix.”

“Yeah, me too,” Lance admits with a sharp chortle, shaking his head again so his curls fall back across his forehead, somehow looking artfully messy. Lance gives Keith a warm smile, before glancing over at the ice with a more determined look. “Still, all anyone can ask for is that we both tried.”

“You’re really smart, Lance,” Keith murmurs softly, and Lance’s gaze shoots back to him Keith almost drops the leg he’d started stretching. Keith smiles, eyebrows sloping down as Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead, gaze so grateful it makes Keith’s heart a little. Lance deserves to hear he’s smart everyday, and Keith’s going to make that happen. They finish their stretching and warm up, never moving too far apart before Keith’s called for his routine. Lance sends him off with a small smile.

Keith slides onto the ice and lets the music overtake him, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he goes into his step sequence, before opening them as he goes into his candle turn. Keith hears a few gasps and smirks softly to himself, but there’s no time to focus on it. He has a quad toe loop in a few seconds, his first jump. Keith stumbles a bit and bites his lip, closing his eyes again as he shakes it off. He still has eight jumps to go and he’s going to land all of them. Keith lets his determination flow through him, but also his emotions. Keith always used to be afraid of them, saw them as a weakness, but not anymore.

They’re what let him glide through the air on his next jump, a triple axel he lands perfectly, going straight into his Biellmann spin. Keith smiles as he finishes, letting his arms go into the kind of flair he used to roll his eyes at most of the time. Keith finally understands why Coran chose the Phoenix as his theme. Keith has become a new skater and in some ways a new person, more flexible, more vulnerable than he was before, but also stronger for it. Keith leaps into his final jump, a triple axel followed by double toe loop, before going through a series of turns that ends with Keith doing a deep back bend on the ice.

“Lance, good luck!” Keith calls as he comes off the ice, waving over at where Lance is preparing to go onto the ice. Lance looks over at him, gaze wide with something that makes Keith feel warm and safe. Lance smiles, and Keith doesn’t even notice what score he got as Lance starts his routine. Lance, too, is transformed, confidently going into his first step sequence, twisting his body into sharp and precise angles, but without sacrificing any of the performance, arms gliding through the air and smile charming the audience. Hell, Keith sees it everyday and it makes his knees a little weak too.

Then Lance goes into his triple axel that he follows with a quad lutz, landing both of them with perfect technicality. Then he goes straight into another beautiful step sequence, hips twisting as he glides across the ice, doing a leg lift as he shoots a flirtatious smile to one of the judges. Then Lance leaps into his next jump, gaining so much air that Keith gasps a little, landing a quad salchow before going into a death spin. Lance immediately turns into another triple axel followed by a triple lutz, body flying through the air like he belonged there. Lance is lean, but he’s so strong, movements so smooth and confident as he glides into his final position.

“Lance, that was, you are a dragon,” Keith exclaims as Lance comes off the ice, Keith pressing his stuffed shark into his hand with a bright smile. Keith is holding onto his own hippo, not quite willing to let it go even though he’s not by the cam anymore. He did get it from Lance and Coran, “But in a good way.”

Lance glances back at him with a playful smile of his own, wriggling his eyebrows a little bit as he slides his free arms through Keith’s own, dragging him along with him. Keith lets him, squeezing Lance’s arm slightly as they walk toward where Coran’s waiting for him. Keith and Lance stop in front of the cam, Lance smirking a little as he looks over at Keith. “Is there a bad way to be a dragon?”

“I mean, you could’ve killed a bunch of knights, and I’m kind of like a knight,” Keith says with a small shrug, grimacing a little when Lance lets out a small scoff. “I used to do fencing as a kid.”

“Of course you did,” Lance mutters with a grin, shaking his head as he glances over at Coran. Keith goes to pull away from Lance now that he’s walked him to the camera area, but Lance pulls him along, Keith stumbling after him and almost ending up sprawled over Lance’s lap. Lance gives Keith a warm smile as he wraps his arm around Keith a little tighter, waving at the camera with his free hand even as his gaze stays on Keith, sure and steady.

“We’re not supposed to sit together while we wait for our scores,” Keith reminds Lance in a tight whisper. Keith does care what people think about him despite how he comes off sometimes, but only the people he wants to be his family and friends, the people he lets in. Lance though, he cares, and Keith doesn’t want Lance to face the annoyed articles and quiet judgment of the figure skating world. Keith wants to protect Lance from it, even though he knows he can’t entirely. Keith goes to stand up, only to feel a heavy weight on his right thigh. “Are you holding me in place with your leg?”

“That’s the point of having such long ones,” Lance answers him with a slow smile, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. Then he lifts Keith’s chin up a little, meeting Keith’s gaze with an anxious one of his own. Oh. Lance is scared. “But stay with me? Be a rebel with me?”

“Only for you,” Keith promises softly, lacing his fingers through Lance’s and squeezing them in silent understanding. Them doing this might piss people off, but those people don’t matter. They’re not Lance’s friends or his fans, and they don’t understand that Lance deserves love and support or that Keith needs to be here at his side, giving Lance everything he can offer him.

“Good to know that I’m kind of special to you, almost as special as that hippo,” Lance says with a playful smirk, bumping the nose of Keith’s hippo with his thumb. Keith lets out a short chuckle, leaning over to bop Lance’s shark awkwardly, trying to mimic the same playful mood, though he concentrates a little too hard as he does, biting his lip and glaring a little. Lance lets out a small scoff, gazing down at Keith fondly. “We’re putting that on your Instagram later.”

“I can’t believe you’re so clear-headed right now,” Keith mutters as Lance glances back up at the board, scores flickering every few seconds. Keith feels like his heart wants to burst out of his chest, for both of them. But Lance, who looked anxious only a few seconds ago, already seems calmer and more at ease. Keith wishes he could be like Lance. Keith just wants to know how they both did so they can either celebrate or drown their sorrows and then go sightseeing. “This is taking forever.”

“We still have one more skater to go,” Lance points out as the scores stay steady for the time being, though Keith refuses to keep checking them. He doesn’t want to see how badly he’s falling down the ranks. Keith knows in his gut Lance will get Gold, that no judge worth their salt could have watched that performance and not understood Lance’s brilliance and skill. Keith doesn’t say any of that though because he’s pretty sure that counts as jinxing, he just curls further into Lance’s side as they watch the last routine. “I’m panicking on the inside too, I’ve just learned to hide it better. You have a much more open face.”

“Your face is pretty great,” Keith whispers as he leans over a little, smirking as Lance raises both his eyebrows and let out a surprised laugh. Even Keith knows that line’s bad, but it _is_ true, and sometimes honesty is what counts.

“Aww, thanks babe,” Lance murmurs as he pulls back from Keith a little, though he gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. Lance grins and wriggles his eyebrows, giving Keith a dramatic once over, licking his lips at the end. “Yours isn’t too shabby.”

Keith starts to let out a small laugh that dies in his throat as the last skater comes to his final position. This is it. They’re about to find out the final scores. Keith tries to swallow his anxiety but finds that he can’t, vision going a little blurry as he squeezes Lance’s hand more tightly. When it clears up a little, his eyes glue to the name by the top score. Lance Ramirez. Lance won. Keith smiles proudly as he watches Lance lunge at Coran, who wraps his arms around them, both of them jumping up and down for a moment, expressions wild with joy. It’s beautiful.

Lance suddenly pulls him into a tight hug a second after he lets go of Coran, face pressing against his own as he feels Lance’s arms wrap tightly around his back. Keith presses himself back into Lance just as much and he’s smiling so hard that it actually hurts a little. When Lance lets go of Keith, though one arm still rests on his, his eyes are wide with surprise and joy, expression beaming with a joy that makes Keith’s own smile get even wider. “Keith! I got the gold!”

“I knew you would,” Keith says before he can stop himself, squeezing Lance’s hand as he goes up on his tiptoes a little so he can look Lance in the eye. He wants Lance to see all of his pride and excitement for him, his sheer joy for Lance, but also his faith in him. “I never doubted you.”

“Thanks, babe,” Lance murmurs in a slightly shaky voice as he squeezes Keith’s hand back, gaze still beaming but some of the surprise starting to wear off. Then Lance glances at the scores again, mouth falling open and eyes going wide as he turns back to Keith, bouncing up and down again so much that Keith has to just to keep from falling over. Keith has no idea why Lance is excited all over again, but he’s going to go with it. “Wait, Keith, you got the bronze!”

“What are you talking about?” Keith asks with a small frown, eyebrows scrunching together because he stopped checking his score after it fell to number 2. People who went first almost never ended up on the podium. Keith just assumed – but his gaze flickers over to the scores, mouth falling open as he stares at the score flashing back at him, the warm amber over his name. he got bronze. “Oh hey, I did! Lance, I think this means – I think we’re both going to the Grand Prix.”

“I’m not Pidge, but I think you’re right,” Lance says in a bright voice, letting go of his shark to fist bump the air. Coran pulls Keith into a tight hug and Keith hugs back without hesitation for once, too dazed to think about it.

Keith pulls Shiro into a quick hug on his way to the podium, giving Shiro a playful smile when Shiro quickly ruffles his hair on the way up to the podium, pushing him a little as he goes onto the ice. Keith sticks his tongue out on the way up, but then he smiles politely, climbing onto the bronze. His gaze softens as Lance skates out onto the ice toward the podium, cheers erupting across the crowd, Lance’s smile is warm and comforting, somehow at once for the entire audience and for Keith at the same time. Lance is just special like that.

Lance arrives on the podium and takes his place at the top, nodding over at Rollo with a bright smile, before turning his gaze to Keith. Lance leans over toward him, brushing a hand across his shoulder, and Keith goes up on his toes a little bit so that he and Lance are face to face. They’re breaking lots of rules today, and Keith’s pretty sure talking on the podium isn’t one anyway.

“You and me, Keith? We’re gonna break some world records at Worlds, just you wait,” Lance whispers with a playful smile, gaze brimming with confidence and hope. Keith can’t help but feel it to even though he only got bronze, because he’s still here when a year ago he wasn’t, and Lance is here with him, smiling at him like he’s something precious. Keith knows that the two of them can do anything together.

So when Lance leans in, expression soft and with so much affection Keith can hardly breath, he can’t help surging up and kissing Lance, fingers pressing against the gold medal around his neck. When the kiss breaks with Lance’s fingers lingering on his chest, Keith’s mind can’t help but go back to the first day they became rink mates a few months ago. Things really did work out better than Keith ever could’ve imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who saw the previous additional chapter "Author's Note" I apologize for being dramatic. I've talked to a friend and realized that I was A: overreacting and B: the stories are dated so it is clear *when* I wrote them anyway. If you didn't see that chapter, please don't worry about it one way or the other, I was just being silly.


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